


Wellington (The First)

by Ithiliana



Series: Behind the Scenes [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: BDSM, Lotrips - Freeform, M/M, Power Play, Roleplay, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-26
Updated: 2009-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiliana/pseuds/Ithiliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Baranduin, Caras_Galadhon, and Savageseraph!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Wellington (The First)

**Author's Note:**

> For Baranduin, Caras_Galadhon, and Savageseraph!

CHAPTER 1:  DAVID’S FIRST DAY

David sat alone at one end of the long table, his food, untouched, cooling in front of him.  Although he’d been in Wellington earlier for costume fittings, rehearsals, and various screen tests, today was the first full day.  He would start filming tomorrow.  

Now, he sat and watched the bewildering variety around him.  Orcs wandered in and out, and earlier he’d seen a group of Nazgul in full costume walking through the tent.  At another table, he’d heard a group of people who looked fairly normal, wearing jeans, shirts and boots, telling stories about the best ways to make sure 25 horses were all the same shade of black and what happened to makeup on horses when it started raining.  

Now, he was just sitting, trying to be more or less invisible, and watching the hobbits.  He’d heard a number of people call them that, the hobbits.  Four of them, in full costume, including the feet, were sitting at the table nearest the door, eating apples and talking and laughing.  Although they wore different colors, their costumes were similar, vests, short trousers, shirts and coats.  

David’s eyes kept being pulled to the one wearing brown.  He was quieter than the two wearing the brighter colors, but even in the subdued light of the tent, he stood out.  David had overheard enough people talking to them to know he was Frodo, played by Elijah Wood.  David hadn’t had a chance to meet any of the hobbits yet.  

At that moment, Frodo looked up and their eyes met.  David looked quickly down, pretending to read the book he was holding.  He’d never read The Lord of the Rings before his original screentest, but as soon as he was notified he’d been cast as Faramir he’d dashed off to the bookstores.  He’d read through it once, as quickly as possible, and was now rereading some of the sections between Faramir and Frodo.  

Discussions with Peter and Fran about the screenplay did emphasize key differences—major shifts in Faramir’s character.   Conflict heightened, stress, more dramatic.   Obviously he’d be working mostly with Frodo....and Sam, played by Sean Astin.  He had seen rushes of the scenes with his “brother,” Boromir, another Son of Gondor.  But he hadn’t met Sean Bean yet.  David sneaked another look at the hobbits, starting to feel jealous of the easy way Sam sat by Frodo, arms touching, as they talked.  

Then he made himself turn back to the book.  Chapter VI:  “The Forbidden Pool.”  Sam follows Frodo and Faramir and sees the moon shining through the waterfall that hides the cave from enemies of Gondor:  “A dazzling veil of silk and pearls and silver thread:  melting icicles of moonlight...”

David could almost feel himself standing high above the river, dark water threaded with silver, plunging over rocks in the moonlight, strong enough to pull anyone careless of its power under.  Moonset over Gondor.  David had noticed how often the Moon was mentioned by Tolkien in the novel.

He imagined himself standing by the river, side by side with his Frodo, the full Moon above.  But pulled out of shape by the force of the water, the scene changed.  They weren’t surrounded by armed men ready to shoot Gollum on his command.  He wasn’t manipulating Frodo, treating him like an enemy spy, no matter how likely it was for a war leader to have just that suspicion of a stranger in a country under attack.  

Instead of shivering in the cold and facing possible death, they were standing under the moon and stars on a warm summer’s night, comfortable with each other, arms around each other’s waists.  David was bending down to kiss Elijah when....

Crash!  David lurched forward, dropping his book on top of his uneaten stew.

“Sorry, mate,” said a stranger who was juggling two trays.

“Uh, no problem,” David mumbled as the man moved past him to join a group at the next table.  

He picked up the book and started wiping it clean.  He suddenly realized that while he’d just sat there, daydreaming, the hobbits had left the tent, and he hadn’t even realized it.  Embarrassed by the bulge he felt against his tight jeans, he got up to leave.  He walked cautiously around several noisy groups and left unobtrusively, he hoped.

Ducking around the tent, he took the first path he saw, just wanting to get away.  Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the tree root waiting to trip him although the wheelbarrow that he fell over definitely caught his attention.  

Stunned, he tried to catch his breath and untangle his legs from the barrow.  

“Whoa!  Steady there,” a voice sounded from behind him.  “What’s the matter here then?”  Two warm hands grasped his shoulders and pulled him effortlessly from the barrow’s greedy grasp, then raised him to his feet.  

David turned to see an older man standing in front of him.  He had a short beard, brown growing grey, and was wearing a bright blue shirt loose over brown pants.  His boots, which seemed too large for him, were a bright yellow.

“Are you wounded, hungry, or in need of aid?”  The man’s voice was deep, with a cadence almost like singing.

“No, thank you—I just tripped.  I wasn’t watching where I was...”

The man turned the wheelbarrow right side up and wheeled it off the path.  “This willow here’s a danger, but pass him by with me and you’ll be safe.”  The man returned to the path and started off at a brisk trot.  David found himself following, not sure why.

“Um, I don’t think we’ve met...”

“My name’s Tom, Tom B.,” he said.  “Come along with me, and let us have some supper.”

“No thanks, I just had lunch, and..”  David’s voice trailed away as the man turned to look at him, deep blue eyes probing for truth.  

He realized that he was now hungry and hadn’t eaten any of his lunch, sitting there feeling depressed and lonely.

He followed the stranger back to the tent where Tom told him to sit while he got them some food.  Tom returned with a tray laden with bread and butter, milk and cheese, honey, salad and fruit.  David introduced himself, finally, and the two of them sat there, eating and talking.  

Tom was one of the Greensmen, the specialized crew responsible for creating or growing the vegetation needed by the film.  Most films didn’t require that much work by Greensmen, but this film was in this respect, as in many others, unique.  Tom had worked on creating the Shire and was currently involved in creating Fangorn Forest.

Filled with delight, David sat there eating and listening to the stories Tom had to tell of  bees and flowers, the ways of trees, and the strange creatures of the Forest, and of secrets hidden under brambles (cribbed from Fellowship Chapter VII).  So lost in the stories was he that he jumped when someone slapped him on his shoulder.

“David, hello!” Peter said as he slung one leg over the bench next to David.  “You made it.  Sorry I wasn’t here to say hello, but I’m glad Tom found you.  He’s been involved with this project since before the beginning, and there’s no better guide to Middle Earth!”

“I can see that,” said David.  

“So, I’m right in the middle of some things now, but if you’re free tonight, I want you to come over to dinner.  Fran and Philippa and I will be there, and I’ve asked Elijah to join us, so we can talk about some of your scenes.  Are you free?”

“Definitely!” said David, feeling a huge grin spread over his face.  

“That’s great—we’ll see you around 8:30 then?”  Hardly waiting for David’s agreement, Peter hurried off.

David turned back to see Tom smiling at him.  “You’ll do well now, my friend,” he said.  “Keep a merry heart and go to meet your fortune!”

   
CHAPTER 2:  THE DINNER PARTY

After his first day’s filming, a bunch of the cast members took him out to dinner, assuring him that this was a tradition.  The four hobbits, Dom, Billy, Sean, and Elijah, along with Orlando, Viggo and Andy, all showed up at his trailer after he’d gotten out of makeup and costume and swept him off.  A brisk but friendly argument about the restaurant was won by Dom and Billy who asserted that since they spent the most time out carousing that they were the best judges of where to get food and drink.  

David found himself sitting between Sean and Andy, two seats away from Elijah who was between Dom and Orlando.  At least five conversations were going on simultaneously around him, and he was content to sit quietly.  He’d been too nervous to try to sit next to Elijah.  

They’d talked last night, after dinner, with Peter and Fran, but all about the film and their characters.  He’d been surprised by Elijah’s focus and passion.  He knew that the young actor had been performing for years, but even so, was surprised by his maturity.  

Viggo leaned forward, speaking over and around Billy’s attempt to juggle three apples, “Have you had a chance to meet Sean, the other Sean, that is?” as Sean Astin glared at him.

“No, although I’ve seen some of the rushes of his scenes.  And Peter told me I could see more.”

“Too bad—maybe you’ll meet him if he has to come back for some pickup filming.  Since he’s playing your big brother,” Viggo said, smiling.

“Yeah, well, maybe then we could get together and gang up on our dear old dad who obviously has some serious issues about his sons and Gondor,” David replied.  

Two waiters arrived, juggling trays filled with food, and started doling out the plates.  

“Who has the fish and chips?” one asked.

“That’s me,” Andy said.  

David stared at him in disbelief.  “You’re kidding, right?”

Sean smirked, “Sam wins in the end.”

“In your dreams,” Andy said, starting to eat.  “They do a good job of cooking here, unlike ssssssome.”

Sam aimed a mock punch across the table at Andy, and David ducked.  As the two started to discuss the conflicts between their characters, especially in their relationship to Frodo, David started eating his meal.  He’d ordered salad and soup, wanting something light after an exhausting day.  

On the other side of Andy, he could see Dom, turning in his seat to talk to Elijah.  Unlike the other conversations at the table, all being conducted loudly and without regard to anyone who might be listening, Dom’s comments seemed to be for Elijah only.  Unashamed, David strained to hear what he was saying.  

David could not force himself to look away or try to start a conversation with anyone else.  He couldn’t hear the conversation, but he watched their body language.  Dom was turned away from the table, body inclined toward Elijah, who was leaning back in his chair, leaning away from Dom, David told himself.  

Dom seemed to be the one who was speaking, one hand on Elijah’s arm.  Elijah was shaking his head, not saying much.

Orlando reached across the table for more bread, blocking David’s view.  “Hey, David, do you surf?” he asked.

“Some—I did more when I was younger, haven’t done much recently.”

Orlando started describing the surfing he and the others had been doing, laughing out loud when he described how they’d taken Viggo out with them one day and taught him to surf.  He’d fallen, ending up with one side of his face bruised, which caused problems in the filming of the fight with the Cave Troll in Moria because only all Viggo’s shots had to be filmed from one side.  Viggo claimed that at least it was his best side, unlike either of Orlando's.

David listened, laughing in the right places, but still watching Dom and Elijah.  He thought they were disagreeing about something, but could not tell for sure.  He hoped so.  He didn’t like the possessiveness he saw in Dom’s posture.

After they left the restaurant, Orlando and Andy persuaded them to stop for ice cream, so they ended up walking, juggling ice cream cones, with various people and groups going their different ways.  The evening was mild, with stars coming out above.

David waited patiently, saying little, when he saw Elijah turn down an offer to go out for beer and a game of pool with Dom, Billy, and Orlando.  All the houses and apartments the cast were staying in where in the same area of Wellington, not far from the restaurant where they’d eaten.  Viggo and Andy walked off, engaged in a heated debate about the authorship of Shakespeare’s plays.  

David, Elijah and Sean walked on, finishing their ice cream cones, and talking about the film.  David was happy to listen, asking them leading questions about their experiences during the year or more they’d already been working on the project.  

He thought the two really had a relationship like that of brothers, Sean’s protection of Elijah featuring in a number of their stories.  Sean also paused under a streetlight to show David pictures of his wife and daughter.  David admired them wholeheartedly.

After what felt like about a century to David, Sean announced he had to get to bed and went home, reminding Elijah that they had an early call the next morning.

David and Elijah kept walking.  David watched as Elijah finished the last of his chocolate ice cream cone and licked his fingers clean.  Feeling the tightness and heat growing inside, David struggled to say something, anything.”  Unfortunately, nothing came to mind.

“Sean’s right, unfortunately,” Elijah said.  “We have a 5:00 a.m. call tomorrow.  What are you doing Saturday night?”

David coughed, needing to clear his throat and breathe. “Nothing.”

“Since Sunday’s our one day off this week, do you want to get together at my place?  I thought we could work on our scenes, rehearse together, even though we won’t together for all the filming.  I didn’t have much experience with bluescreen work before, am getting a lot more these days.”

“Sure.”  David didn’t trust himself to say any more.

“Great.  See you tomorrow!  I live just down here.  ‘Night!”

Elijah turned down the street they’d just crossed.  David watched his slim figure moving from light to darkness and back into light again as he passed streetlights.  He had a fairly early call himself, though not as early as the hobbits, so David returned to his apartment.  He thought he might have a hard time sleeping tonight.  Maybe he’d read a little.  He thought that “The Window on the West” and “The Forbidden Pool” deserved further consideration.  
   
CHAPTER 3:  A REHEARSAL

David finished lighting the fourth candle, made sure it was safely out of range of anything flammable, and blew out the match.  The smell of sulphur mingled with the rising scent of...David inhaled again, was that really, “Roses?”

“Liv gave them to me.  She found this great little shop and said I needed them for relaxation, aromatherapy I guess.”  Elijah turned off the last night, standing between the kitchen and living room.

Darkness settled over the room except for the small pools of light around the candles, each set at a different height on tables and counters.

“Are you ready?” David asked.

“In a minute.”  Elijah kicked off his sneakers and bent over, pulling his grey sweat pants up nearly to his knees.  Then he stood up straight, rising on tiptoe, stretching his arms over his head, his body arching, fully extended, his blue t-shirt pulling free of the waistband.  David watched for a moment, his breath caught, feeling his pulse quicken.

They’d left the studio earlier that day.  Both wanted to do some extra work for the scenes in Ithilien, at Henneth Annun, and the Forbidden Pool.  They knew that they’d be working with the scale doubles, Paul and Kieran, and doing some blue screen work, filming scenes separately that would be digitally blended to give the sense of a hobbit under four feet tall facing one of the tall Sons of Gondor.  

But both also wanted to rehearse with each other, work on creating the scenes, interacting in their characters, to be able to have that experience in mind as they worked in the more disjointed areas of filming, so different from working on the stage.  These scenes were key in each one’s character development.  Faramir, having recently seen a vision of his dead brother’s body on the Great River, feeling the increasing pressure from their father to serve in his place, knowing that the forces of Mordor would soon move against his city and people.  Frodo, feeling the weight of the Ring increase as Smeagol led him and Sam closer to the secret road, seeing every day in Smeagol’s face the price of carrying the Ring.

Elijah slipped the ring and chain over his head and walked into the living room.  David picked up the practice sword, a replica of his hand-forged steel weapon but made in plastic for practice.  He would only work with the actual weapon, heavy and as beautiful as it was dangerous, under Bob Anderson’s supervision.

“Where do you want to start?” asked Elijah.

“What part do you think they’re most likely to keep for a day or two,” David said in a mock-serious tone.

Both laughed.  As every cast member did, they both had growing files of revisions, with two different ones sometimes arriving at nearly the same time.  Flipping through his script, Elijah said, “This part...Faramir’s speech about taking the ring to Gondor.  Philippa told me the first part of it’s straight out of the book, so I’m betting that’s likely to stay, in some version.”  
“Fine with me.”

They blocked out the action, Faramir entering from the kitchen, Frodo rising from his left side and backing away, slowly, until he stood, back against the living room wall.  They decided that a bolster could play Sam for this part of the scene.  

After running through the action several times, David started working on his lines.  

“So this is the answer to all the riddles.  The One Ring that was thought to have perished from the world and Boromir tried to take it by force?  And you escaped?  And ran all the way—to me!  Here in the Wild I have you:  two halflings and a host of Men at my call.  A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality.”

They ran through the scene twice, action and words, without any problems.  As they began the third time, Elijah, jumping to his feet, tripped over the bolster that was playing Sam, and fell.  He looked so surprised, sitting there, that David started laughing.  After a moment, so did Elijah.

The problem was, they couldn’t stop laughing.  As David tried to go through his lines again, Elijah started interrupting him by vocalizing silly “Voice of the Ring” lines.  

“So this is the answer to all the Riddles..”

“All your base are mine!”

David tried to keep going.  “The One Ring...”

“Says ‘Resistance is Futile!’”

“Stop that, Elijah!  The One Ring..”

“Join me on the Dark Side, Luke!”

That was too much.  David started laughing so hard he dropped his sword and had to hold his stomach.  He could hardly breathe.  He’d been nervous, joining the cast and seeing how tight a bond the members of the Fellowship already had.  He’d soon learned his fears were groundless; everyone welcomed him, bringing him into what seemed to be one of the biggest families on the planet.  Everyone was so dedicated on this film.  He liked all of them, but from the start, Elijah seemed to stand out.

They laughed together, but when they finally could stop and draw a breath, neither said anything.  Yet their silence wasn’t uncomfortable.  As David looked at Elijah, looking back at him, some important communication seemed to happen in that endless moment of quiet.  Golden light flickered around them, and the scent of roses strengthened.  

Reaching out with an unsteady hand, David gently traced the elegant arch of Elijah’s eyebrows, caressed his cheek.  Elijah closed his eyes, but leaned forward, moving under David’s hand which dropped to his neck.  Feeling the racing pulse under Elijah’s smooth skin, David felt his own heartbeat increase in response.  

Slowly, delicately, his hand dropped tracing the line of the gold chain around Elijah’s neck down to hold the Ring.  A gentle pull, and suddenly they were embracing, Elijah throwing his arms around David’s neck, David pulling him closer, arms around his waist.  Lips opening to eager tongues, tasting sweetness, they sank to the floor.  The light of the candles gilded their skins, seeming to guide them in their exploration of this new fellowship.

David pushed his hands under Elijah’s shirt, caressing his soft skin, pulling the shirt over his head.  He kissed his way down Elijah’s neck and chest, hands drifting lower, knee pushing between his legs.

Elijah’s hands were busy as well, tracing circles on his shoulderblades and lower back, teasing him by pushing beneath the waistband of his jeans, growing tighter every moment, then moving back up along his spine.  Carpet rasped agreeably on bare skin as they tugged and pulled off their clothes.

Elijah caressed David’s face.  “I’m glad you’re not covered with stubble in real life.” He gasped as David’s hand plunged between his legs and began caressing him.  “Why do.......all the Men.....in this film......have to be.......scruffy.........ahhhhhh.”

David silenced him with a kiss, sucking Elijah’s tongue into his mouth.  All the boundaries seemed to be melting away, clothes, skin, into a warm rush of connection and desire.  The world shrunk to a rose-gold globe, hands, mouths, legs, bodies twisting together, then exploded like one of Gandalf’s fireworks, crescendos of pleasures cascading into darkness.

Coming slowly back to awareness, David found himself lying on his stomach with Elijah sprawled agreeably across him.

“I told you resistance was futile,” Elijah murmured.

David turned quickly, dumping Elijah onto the floor, and pinning his shoulders.

“Hey!” he protested.

David smiled down at him.  “I thought I was the one chasing you.”

“Yeah, like I spend every Saturday night rehearsing.  I saw you watching me.”  Elijah ran his hands up David’s sides.  Just as David was contemplating his next move, the telephone rang.  

They stared at each other for a couple of rings, and Elijah said, “I’d better get that.”  

David let him up, and he ran to the kitchen.

“Hello!....Yes, it’s me.......oh, hi Dom........uh-huh..........that sounds cool.........let me check.”  

Elijah peered through the door.  “It’s Dom, he’s down at the pool hall with Billy, Sean, and Orlando.  Want to join them for beer and pool?”

“Sure, why not,” David agreed.  It wouldn’t have been his first choice, but he knew how close Elijah was with the others, and he wasn’t about to interfere with their friendship.  He got up and started sorting out their clothing.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes....yeah, me and David......no, you idiot, we were just rehearsing!”  
   
CHAPTER 4:  THE POOL GAME

David sat on the green-leather barstool, back against the bar, feet hooked over the rungs, watching a hot and heavy pool game developing in front of him.  Brightly colored balls caroomed across green felt, bounced off the sides, rebounded in complex fractal patterns, ending firmly in their respective holes.  

Sipping the cool, astringent beer, David appreciated the view in front of him--Elijah bent far over the table to make a tricky shot.  His sweatpants and t-shirt gapped to expose pale skin.

Apparently this game was part of a months-long tournament during which relationships had changed repeatedly.  Dom and Billy had apparently started out together, as had Sean A. and Elijah, with Viggo and Sean B. in alliance.

However, after Boromir’s death, Sean had left New Zealand (more or less, other than being called back for pickup scenes), and Viggo had reluctantly accepted Orlando as a substitute.  Viggo wasn’t here at the moment, so Orlando was loudly claiming two turns for every one the others had.

However, the hobbits had changed alliances recently, Billy claiming Sean, and Dom grabbing Elijah.  

Not surprisingly, David reflected, keeping score was difficult since apparently nobody trusted anybody else, and the bartender resolutely refused to referee.  And, as far as he could tell from an evening’s observation, everyone except Elijah cheated whenever possible.  

The noise level at the table escalated as Orlando took a turn, Billy leaning over him and announcing he needed to keep an eye on his wrist action.  When Orlando realized that Billy had slipped an apple among the racked balls, his language became profane.

Someone slid onto the barstool next to him, and David turned his head.  It was Viggo.  

“Can I buy you another?” Viggo asked, looking at his nearly-empty glass.

“Sure--thanks.”

Viggo waved the bartender over and asked for two more.  The cold glasses appeared quickly.  

“So how are you liking things so far?”

David wondered how much subtext existed in Viggo’s smile.  He also noticed the large sword casually propped against the bar on Viggo’s other side.  He’d heard the rumors, of course, but hadn’t really believed them until now.

“Fine.”  He sipped beer, waiting to see what developed.  

Viggo just nodded, his eyes intent, demanding.

“I find it awe inspiring.  The sets are massive, overwhelming,” David paused, searching for words.  “It’s like walking into another world.”

Viggo’s smile was blinding, changing his aura from threatening to welcoming.  “That’s what we’ve all felt.  It’s amazing what Peter’s been able to create.  I sometimes wonder what will happen when we have to leave this world.”

David realized Viggo and the others had been in this other world for over a year.  He shivered slightly, wondering what that would feel like.  His own schedule called for only 4-5 months of work, Faramir’s character appearing in only two of the films.  He’d been here less than a week, and it was already hard to imagine leaving.

The two sat in silence for a moment until interrupted by Orlando, inserting his slim body between the two of them, and throwing an arm around each of them.

“Vig!  You have to come help me!  They’re beating up on me so bad!”

Viggo slipped his arm around Orlando’s waist.  “You deserve it, don’t you?”

“Not at all. I demand you come help me demolish Billy and Sean.  After all, as the King of Men, you have authority over hobbits as well as the Sons of Gondor!”  Orlando grabbed Viggo and started trying to tug him off the barstool.  Viggo agreed, laughing, and went to pick out a pool cue, not forgetting to take his sword with him.

When Viggo and Orlando challenged Billy and Sean, Dom and Elijah left the table.  

David noticed when Dom tried to get Elijah to go to the bathroom with him.  Elijah laughed and shook his head, racked his pool cue, and came to join David.  Elijah stood next to him, leaning against him.  David didn’t even try to resist the impulse to slide his arm around the warm body.

The competition at the pool table became deadly, but David was not paying attention.  He looked at Elijah who was looking at him.

“You’re pretty good,” David noted.

“I try,” Elijah smiled.  “On the other hand, I can also be pretty bad.  Do you want to head back to my place?  What’s happening now is going to get ugly pretty soon!”

David laughed as he slipped off the barstool.  “I’m up for whatever you are!”

As they walked out of the noisy, hot poolroom, David looked up into the night sky.  A full moon was riding high in the sky above, and the stars were bright.  Life in Middle Earth was good!

CHAPTER 5:  THE BACKRUB

David stood outside the trailer and watched Elijah step outside, calling goodnight to the others inside.  He noticed that Elijah was walking a bit more slowly than usual, stiffly, although only somebody staring very hard at him in the dim light would have noticed.  David met him at the bottom of the steps.

“Are you okay, love?” he asked, slipping an arm around him.

“Mostly..” Elijah admitted.

“How many times did you and Sean roll down those stairs today?”

“I lost track...six or seven maybe.”

They’d been filming part of the Frodo/Faramir in Osgiliath sequence.  

Frodo is drawn to the top of the ruined city wall by the Nazgul and nearly succumbs to the command to put on the Ring.  Sam, following him, pulls him down, and the two tumble down a flight of steps at the bottom of which Frodo nearly kills Sam, not recognizing him, in his fear of losing the Ring.  

Philosophically, David admired Peter Jackson’s perfectionism which caused him to film numerous takes (over 30 for one of Ian’s scenes he kept claiming), but in this instance, he didn’t like the results.

“You’re going to have bruises tomorrow.  Let’s not go out tonight—you don’t need to start carousing with Dom and the others.  You need to rest,” David coaxed.

“I suppose...” Elijah sounded reluctant.

David nuzzled his neck, whispering in his ear, “If you let me take you home, I’ll give you one of my soon to be patented backrubs.”

“Okay!”  

They walked to David’s car and were soon at Elijah’s apartment.  He only had to check three pockets to find his keys, and David sighed in relief.  It hadn’t taken him long to learn that Elijah was more prone to losing his keys than anyone he’d ever known.

Inside, David firmly steered Elijah down the hallway to the bedroom.  “We’ll order some food in later.”  He flipped on the lights and tossed back the comforter, then started urging Elijah out of his clothing, always a pleasant task.  

Within a few minutes, after only minimal smooching, he had Elijah arranged, lying on his belly, face pillowed on his arms, on the dark blue sheets.  Ducking into the bathroom, he found a bottle of body oil in the shower.

Pausing in the doorway, he admired the effect of Elijah displayed on the sheets, like a cameo image, the pale perfect outlined against midnight blue.

“You could turn the light down,” came a muffled voice from the bed.

“But I like the view,” David protested.

”I’m waaaaiiiiting....I was promised a backrub!  And I want it now!”

David paused to kick off his shoes and turn the light down (but not all the way), then sat on the bed, pouring oil into his hands and rubbing them together to warm it.

Gently, he began massaging, starting with the slim shoulders, his hands moving lightly, in large circles, over shoulderblades, down the sides, and onto the lower back.  On the second pass, he increased the pressure a little bit and slowed his motion.  The circles spread to include Elijah’s arms, now spread-eagled, and his sides, avoiding his ticklish spot.....for now.

More circles, dipping a bit lower this time, slowly grew into and up and down stroking motion along the spine.  Tight muscles under his hands relaxed.

Pouring oil directly into the hollow of Elijah’s spine, David leaned a bit more into the motion, pushing down more with his palms, tracing many short arcs from the spine outward, moving up toward the wings of Elijah’s shoulderblades.  

“Hmmmmmmmmmmm,” Elijah purred.  “Do it again.”

“How about this?”  Going onto one knee over the prone body, David placed his hands together and went back to making big circles on Elijah’s glistening white skin, adding the pressure of his weight to the movement.

Over and around, around and over, feeling the heat build inside and outside.  

Moving down to the slim, muscular legs, he massaged up and down, ending with a gentle foot massage.

Pausing a moment, so aroused that he could barely breathe, he heard a gentle.....snore?

Placing a gentle hand on one shoulder, David whispered Elijah’s name.  No response.  Leaning to the right, he could see one eye, firmly shut, the dark eyelashes casting a shadow.   Sound asleep.

David snorted.  Well, he supposed, there was always tomorrow.  He pulled off his clothes, turned off the light, and crawled in beside Elijah.  He could wait. Elijah was always up in the morning.

   
CHAPTER 6:  ALL TIED UP &amp; NO PLACE TO GO

David was sprawled on the steps to his trailer, back against the door, when Elijah arrived.  David was too tired to get up, so he just waved.  Elijah dropped down beside him, looking concerned.

“Are you all right, love”  he asked.

David shut his eyes and groaned.  “Fifteen takes,” he mumbled.

“Oh, you had a Peter Jackson day!  Did he ever get from ‘good, good, that’s very good’ to ‘excellent’?”

“No.”

“Oh-oh.  You’d better rest up for tomorrow then.”  Elijah scooted around, encouraging David to sit up enough so that he could rub his back.

David squirmed forwards as gentle hands began rubbing his neck, then circled down.  Gentle rubs through his clothing, nothing too sexy, thank goodness, ‘cause he’d probably drop dead if he tried anything.

Still rubbing, Elijah said, “Want me to drive you home?  You need to eat and get some rest.”

“Okay.  But what about dinner?”  They’d originally planned to go out for dinner with Andy, Orlando, Liv, and the rest of the hobbits.  David hadn’t met Liv yet, but she was back doing some more scenes.  Elijah told him she’d probably come and gone more than anyone else on the film, the schedule for her work was so erratic.

“Do you really want to go out and try to talk to people?”  Elijah stopped rubbing his back and gave him a gentle hug.

“No.”  David especially didn’t want to have to deal with Dom who’d been giving him a hard time recently.

“I’ll tell everyone about your day.  They’ve all had them, so they’ll understand.”

“Thanks.”  

Elijah encouraged him to stand up and walk to his car, then drove him home.  David went to sleep in the car.  He woke up when Elijah stopped in front of the apartment complex.

“Here we are. Can you make it up the stairs by yourself?”

David stretched and yawned.  “I think so.”  He turned to give Elijah a goodnight kiss, slow and sweet.

Afterwards Elijah slid his hand through David’s arm.  “I was thinking about Saturday,” he said.

“What?”  David began to smile.  They both had two days off at the end of the week.  Heaven only knew what Elijah could come up with.  

“And next week’s scenes.”

“Huh?”  David tried to think that far ahead.  Next week, next week was, “Henneth Annun and the Forbidden Pool?”

“Um-hmm.  I was wondering if you’d like to do some extra.....rehearsing.  Preparation for next week’s scenes”

Remembering what their last rehearsal had led to, David was definitely intrigued despite his exhaustion.  “What do you have in mind?”

“You’ll see.  If you’re up for it.  Do you want to?”  Elijah’s other  hand was on his leg.

“Yes....if I survive tomorrow.”

Elijah leaned over for one last kiss.  “Just keep in mind that now you have something to live for!  I’ll come over Saturday night, about 7:00.  Make sure you eat a good dinner—you’re going to need all your strength.”

David answered the door Saturday more than a bit intrigued.  They had been spending most of their time together at Elijah’s, the first place he’d had on his own.  He wondered why Elijah had wanted to come to his apartment.  Elijah was carrying a small backpack and wearing a mysterious smile.

“So just what do you have in mind,” David asked as they settled next to each other on the big leather couch in the living room.  

“How would you like to play ‘Catch the Halfling,’ Elijah asked, sliding under David’s arm.

“That sounds like fun,” David said.  “But specifically...?”

Elijah pulled his backpack over and opened it, spilling out a selection of black silk ropes.  “Look what I found!”

“Another of Liv’s little shops?” David asked wryly.

“No, Dom’s!”

David sighed.  “Figures.  Okay—but first, have you ever played this game before.”

“No.”  Elijah picked up one of the ropes and draped it around David’s neck.  “Have you?”

“Yes.  But I have some rules, and I won’t play unless we talk first.”

Elijah pouted.  David picked up the hand that had been moving up his leg, and held it firmly between both of his.  “Please, love?”  

At his tone, Elijah looked directly at him and stopped pouting.  “All right.”  

“It IS a game, not for real, and you will learn the breakaway knots.  Second, we agree on a word, one that means stop, and that word is always honored.  Third, and I really mean this, no intentional wounding, no intentional bleeding.”

Elijah looked scared, and David was glad to see it.  He’d had one friend who had a bad experience, one so bad he hadn’t been able to talk about it for years, and could do so only at the end of a really drunk night, crying.  A lot of the problem had been miscommunication, people not making it clear what their “rules” were, thinking everyone played by the same ones.

“I...I...didn’t think...but , eww!  Of course!”

David slid over to hug him.  “I just had to be sure that we both understood. And within those limits, I think it can be a really fun game.  But what is this about catching a hobbit?”

Regaining his smile, Elijah explained.  “I was doing some preliminary work with the capture scene, and just started thinking about how fun it would be to be tied up by you,” shivering and creeping closer, “and totally at your mercy,” he slid his arms around David’s waist.

David responded immediately to that image, growing hard, tightening his arms around Elijah.  “Oh, yes.”  Thinking of the ropes, feeling jealous, he said, “Did you tell Dom about this?”

“Nope.  He’d told me about this shop weeks ago, been nagging me to visit it with him. I didn’t, but remembered where it was.”  

“So let me teach you a few rope tricks, first,” David smiled.  “And you choose the word.”

* * *

Later that evening, Faramir, Captain of Gondor, having unaccountably lost all his men in the woods (silly Sons of Gondor), pulled the stunned hobbit he had captured to his feet.  He bound his captive’s hands in front of him with black silk rope.  Turning him roughly around, he blindfolded him with a large bandanna, Frodo having focused too exclusively on the purchase of ropes earlier in the day and missed the silk blindfolds (silly hobbit).

Slipping an arm around the captive’s neck, the captain pulled the slim body against his own, thrusting his hips forward.  “Do not speak,” he cautioned him. “Or you will be punished.”  Pushing him forward, he forced him to walk ahead of him to the back of the cave where a nicely made up king-size bed with a brass headboard and footboard awaited them.  

The hobbit was breathing quickly when they arrived.  

Faramir unbuttoned his shirt and jeans from behind, running his hands over the pale skin.  “All captives must be searched,” he whispered.  The jeans were pulled down to his ankles.  No underwear.  Hobbits were obviously shameless.  A gentle shove toppled the hobbit forward onto the bed.  Faramir tugged the jeans off.  

Moving quickly now, he flipped the hobbit over, pulled his wrists above his head and tied them to the headboard, looped more rope around his ankles and then the footboard.  Faramir left the blindfold on, and folded the blue shirt open, baring the hobbit’s exquisite body, pale and pure.    

The captor’s hands roamed at will, eliciting moans, the hobbit never knowing where a hand would light next.  

After a few moments, Faramir left his captive to get some supplies.  He came back with a bottle of strawberry flavored oil, a bowl of ice cubes, and a large feather which had been made into a quill pen (he’d been so impressed with the calligrapher’s hand-made quill pens that he’d begged a couple for souvenirs.  He could spare one for tonight.).

Back on the bed, he dipped the feather in the oil and began lightly drawing it over the helpless body in front of him, moving closer and closer to the hobbit’s erection.  When he started drawing the oiled feather up and down, the hobbit’s hips jerked, and the feather moved back to nipples and stomach.  

“More..,” the hobbit begged.

“NO talking,” he ordered, administering a light slap or two.  “You can moan, whimper, shout, but you cannot speak.  Or you will be punished.”  The punishment this time was leaving for five minutes.

Faramir spent the five minutes in the kitchen first, tearing off his clothes, then splashing cold water on his face.  It had been a while...

Returning to his whimpering captive, the Son of Gondor started in with the feather again, this time pouring some of the oil on the hobbit’s stomach and spreading it with the feather.  The whimpers went up in pitch especially when the feather circled around then dipped into his bellybutton.

An icecube or two rubbed up and down, melting against the hot skin, temporarily silenced the shocked hobbit.  

Then, leaning over, his arms pressing down on upper thighs and stomach, Faramir began licking, sucking at the sweetness of the strawberry oil and the sweetness of Frodo.  Up and down, on every side, exploring every soft fold of skin, the man’s tongue swirled and probed.  Unable to move, the hobbit’s whimpers turned to moans.  

When Faramir could feel the muscles beneath him reach a certain tenseness, he’d bring out another ice cube.  

Then his warm mouth would descend again, building again toward climax.

Over and over roused to a certain pitch only to be denied satisfaction, the hobbit forgot the rules again.  “Please,” he begged.

Faramir stood up, a stern captain of men, turning the hobbit to lie on his stomach and administering three slaps in the appropriate place as punishment.  He didn’t think he could take a ten-minute penalty at this point.

The last slap turned into a caress, and Faramir knelt and began gently biting the rounded flesh, nibbling up and over and round, intermixed with the use of his tongue.  More whimpers.

Reaching for the oil, the captain began preparing his captive, rubbing the oil on his hands, then probing deep inside.  Moans.

Rolling onto the bed next  to Frodo, Faramir poured the last of the oil into his hand and rubbed it over himself, then slowly began to push into the hobbit who responded by arching his back to move closer, to achieve deeper penetration.

“Do not move,” the captain admonished him, sliding closer himself, and reaching around in front to hold the hobbit in a firm grip.  “You  may speak  now.  Will you be mine?”  The moans not only went up in pitch but escalated, before the hobbit gasped, “Yes, my captain, my king.”

Faramir thrust inside, moving more and more quickly, moving in rhythm to his caresses.  Unchecked this time, the pressure and heat inside grew even greater, building to a huge wave of feeling that crashed over the two bodies on the bed, drowning them first in light and then in darkness.  

When his breath steadied again, David leaned up and over to pull the slip rope in both knots, releasing Elijah who rolled over and flung his arms and legs around him.  David caressed his soft hair, a little nervous.  He’d lost one lover who decided he just couldn’t face what the game aroused in him.  

“Are you okay,” he whispered, hugging Elijah.

Elijah lifted his head from David’s chest, eyes glowing like gems.  “That was fucking incredible,” he crowed, smiling one of his most blinding smiles.  “Or should I say, incredible fucking...”

David subsided on the pillows in relief.  

But Elijah wasn’t quite done.  “There’s only one thing...” he started.

“Yes?”

“Next time I get to take YOU captive!”

David smiled. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“And I’ll definitely be thinking about this next week when we do our scenes....”

David reached over to turn off the bedlamp, then back to hold Elijah.  “So will I, love,” he assured him.  
   
CHAPTER 7:  A RIFT IN THE LUTE

David lifted the shot glass full of the golden liquid, licked the salt on his hand, shot the tequila down his throat, and bit down on the slice of lime, shuddering.  His third shot in the last half hour.  He sipped beer, wondering how many more it would take to stop hurting.  

Then he ordered himself to stop thinking about the fight last weekend, but his brain insisted on replaying the scene for him. A teasing interchange exploding, accusations and counter-claims, Elijah slamming out.  David guessed he’d spent the weekend off with the hobbits surfing, but he didn’t know.  And Elijah hadn’t talked to him all week.

Too much work, too much—

David decided to order another shot now instead of waiting his self-imposed limit of 10 minutes.  He probably shouldn’t have come tonight.

After a horrendously exhausting week, a bunch of the cast and crew had found themselves at this pub, more or less taking it over.  One group had brought their instruments and were playing like maniacs.  Others were dancing.  Still others were playing what had to be the most illegal variant on the game of pool possible.  David averted his eyes.  He hadn’t ever imagined that you could play strip pool.

David ordered himself not to look at the dancers, but he couldn’t help it.  He turned to watch the three holding center stage on the small dance floor.  Dom. Orlando.  Elijah.  

All wearing some variation of the current baggy pants, and either muscle shirts or no shirts.  What was going on at the moment seemed to be half dance, half gymnastics, and half wrestling, and if that was too many halves, David didn’t give a damn.  He’d never seen anything like it.

The three were totally engrossed in each other, mirroring each other’s movements, lost to the world, alert for the least change, or maybe it was the least challenge, in the other two’s movements.  One flowed into two, who scooped the other one up, and half flung him across the floor.   The two then split up, one of them combining with the third, to engulf the second.  Movement in three dimensions, maybe four.  

It was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.  He was half crazy, the desire to fuck all three of them warring with the desire to grab Elijah away from the other two.  

His tequila came.  “Who can tell the dancer from the dance,” he muttered and threw it down his throat, ignoring the salt and lime ritual.  

“Sweetie, there’s nothing you can do when Orli and Dom start something.”  The voice came from his left side, and David started, chocking on the fumes.

Andy pounded him on the back, and got a glass of water from the bartender for him.

David swallowed half the glass and coughed to clear his throat.  “Thanks.”

He turned away from the dance floor to look at Andy who was lounging against the bar next to him.  

They’d been working on their scenes during the last week, and David had been fascinated with the experience, with the quality of Andy’s work in this incredible demanding role.  He knew that Gollum was technically a CGI character, but what Peter Jackson and Andy Serkis were creating was unique.  

Andy had been there the whole time, doing scenes where he actually created two characters, shifting from Smeagol to Gollum before David’s (and the camera’s) very eyes.  Then Andy would do motion-capture work—and work with the CGI team.  David figured Andy was probably doing two or three times the work of any other actor for this so-called CGI character.

“I didn’t see you come in,” David said.  

“Just got here.  Really, though, you have to remember the hobbits all came down what, a month or more early, to work together.  Peter wanted them bonding before the main filming started.  And when Orli came down, he morphed right in.  It’s a complicated group.  Elijah isn’t as tight with the group as the others, most of the time, then other times—who knows....”  Andy lounged against the bar, body facing out, turning his head to look David in the eyes.

“Uh-huh.”  David looked away, concentrated on finishing his beer.

“Yeah, I’m never quite sure when they’re competing or cooperating, but in either case, my advice is to stand back.”

David pushed his glass away and faced Andy.  “And you think I need to know this?”

Andy smiled at him.  

“OK, I suppose you all know or at least guess.”

Andy gestured the bartender over.  “Two more of whatever he’s having.  I don’t know whether this group is like a big family or a small town or some weird blend of both.  But, yeah.  People see, people talk, people have opinions.  It’s mostly interest, sympathy, not mean-spirited.  But you two have been kind of obvious, both earlier and recently.”  He paid for the two shots and two beers.

After swallowing the tequila, David moved a step closer.  He could feel the alcohol buzzing along his nerves, tingling in his legs and arms, the gold tide drowning that little voice in the back of his head that represented caution.

Andy was wearing black jeans, a tight black t-shirt, half-lounging on the bar.  His curly hair tumbled over his forehead, and his dark eyes seemed intent, focused on David alone.

“And what’s your opinion?”

Andy stretched lazily, sliding a bit closer, ending up with his arm along the bar, nearly embracing David.  “I WAS thinking it’s a bloody shame a gorgeous thing like you seemed to be out of circulation.”

The sounds and music around them seemed to fade.  David swallowed, felt light-headed.  “You were, past tense, thinking that.”

Andy nodded.  

“And now?”

“And now?” Andy echoed him.  “Now I’m wondering just what your circulation status is—checked out or not.”

David reached out, hooked two fingers in the waistband of Andy’s jeans and pulled him around, hauling him in close.  They stood chest to chest, bodies pressed together, and David could feel that they were both getting hard.

“Why don’t we go find out?” he asked, gently.

“Let’s,” breathed Andy.

They walked out together, and David did not even think to look back at the dance floor.

The night air seemed cooler than it was in contrast to the heat of the pub, the heat David felt rising in his own body.  Without speaking, they crossed the street, Andy leading.  David wasn’t sure where they were going, but he didn’t ask.  Just followed.  

A block or two later, Andy grabbed his arm and spun them into an alley.  David found himself pressed against the wall of a building, Andy’s hands moving roughly over his body, shoving his shirt up, diving down to open his jeans.

“Hey,” he started to protest, afraid of getting caught, trying to move away, as his jeans were shoved down his hips.

Strong arms pushed him against the wall again, and his legs were forced apart.  Andy’s body was pinning him flat against the wall, forcing him forward, he couldn’t move, and suddenly, he heard a low growl right in his ear.  David froze, heart beating wildly.  He’d heard that growl earlier in the week.  This was crazy.

Heart and breath rate increasing from adrenaline or from the hands that suddenly gripped him, or from both, David felt himself arching back, opening himself to the sensations.  The warm hands with long, flexible fingers quickly brought him to climax.

Then, before he had a chance to catch his breath, the weight behind him shifted, and one warm wet hand began probing him, opening him up, forcing his legs further open.  David relaxed even more, trusting the strength behind him to hold him up, letting his head fall back on Andy’s shoulders, arms hanging loose.  Lips nuzzled him and then, as Andy entered, he closed his teeth on David’s neck, began sucking.

A slow rhythm began, then quickened.  An arm slipped around David’s chest, steadying him against the thrusting movement.  David rode the motion, quicker and harder, deeper and stronger, higher and higher until he exploded, crying out against Andy’s muffling hand.

Andy held him until he could stand on his own again and pull his jeans up.  He turned around in the circle of Andy’s arms, braced against the wall.  

“I’m considering tonight a temporary loan,” Andy said, caressing David’s check, “but feel free to call me anytime.”  A quick kiss, and Andy was walking away, silhouetted a moment against the light from the streetlight at the mouth of the alley, then slipping away into the shadows.

David stood leaning against the wall until he could trust himself to zip his jeans.  Then he left the alley as well.  Moving along the street, he soon learned that he had to watch carefully to make sure his feet did not leave his body, which felt unusually light, behind.  

Concentrating on his feet, he did not watch where he was going.  He was surprised to run into a warm body.  Trying to step back, look up, and apologize all at once, he started to fall.

Strong arms deftly caught him and replaced him on his feet, hands holding his shoulders.  David found himself looking into Viggo’s amused eyes and seeing his wide grin.  

“Whoa there,” Viggo said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” David said simply, feeling as if he hung limply from Viggo’s hands.

“OK, but are you sure you’re heading in the right direction?”

David looked around and realized he had no idea where he was, looked at Viggo again, and shrugged.

Viggo laughed.  “Let me help?” he suggested, turning David around.

“OK.”

They walked for several blocks, and David began to recognize street signs.  He and Viggo climbed the steps to David’s apartment, but at the top, David tripped, catching himself by holding onto Viggo, who hauled him upright again.  Arms around him, David said, “Wanta come inside?”

David suddenly found himself against a wall again, back against it this time, Viggo holding him up, his sword (at least David devoutly hoped it was his sword) pressing into David’s leg and thigh.  One of Viggo’s hands, strong and calloused from hours of swordplay, was around his throat, the other in David’s pocket, rubbing against him.

“That is a very tempting offer,” Viggo murmured in his ear.  A purring note in his voice reminded David of a tiger he’d seen, strong and beautiful, stretching out in the sun, revealing just a glint of his lethal claws against soft fur.  

David gasped for breath against the pressure at this throat, and Viggo’s mouth descended on his.  

David had a theory that you could tell what kind of lover someone was by the way they kissed.  His head spun under the hard probing of that kiss, feeling taken in a dizzying rush of sensation that morphed from intense to gentle, ending with a gentle brush of the lips.

“And if you make that offer again, at some time when you are neither drunk nor suffering from a broken heart caused by our young star, I’ll probably take you up on it.  But not tonight, my friend.”  

In a complex maneuver that David could never remember afterwards, Viggo pulled David’s keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door, deposited David inside, with keys in his hand, and locked door shut behind him.  

David stood there, leaning against the door and panting for a while, waiting for his head and body to decide to get back together.

He swore that he was going off tequila.  Again.  At least for the next five years.  Shedding his clothes as he staggered into the bedroom, David fell naked across his bed.

Hours or days or weeks later, his brain wasn’t sure where he was or who he was, he heard the pounding at his door.  He tried to ignore it.  The pounding did not stop.

Forcing himself to roll over and open his eyes, he saw a faint light through the bedroom window.  Early then, or late.  What the hell.  He crawled up and, remembering at the last minute to pull a sheet off and wrap it around his waist, he went down the hall to answer it.  He had to keep one hand on the wall and just hope his head didn’t fall off.

The pounding continued as he figured out how to work the lock.  When he opened the door, Elijah stood swaying in the doorway.  

“I’m sorry.”

David wasn’t quite sure which of them had spoken first, but he held out one arm to Elijah, who threw both arms around his neck.  As they hugged, David could smell the sex on Elijah, but at that moment, the resurfacing voice in his brain presented him with the clear image of what he’d been doing earlier that night.

Better to say nothing.

Pulling Elijah inside, he kicked the door shut, took him by his arms, and looked deep into his eyes.

“Can we go to bed and sleep for about ten hours and then talk?” David demanded, his voice hoarse.

“Sure.”

And so they did.  
   
CHAPTER 8:  THE HUNT

Blind Country

David wandered down the aisle, carrying a tray loaded with lunch, scanning the crowded dining area for a place to sit.  The noise level was intense as usual.  He hadn’t felt much like talking to anyone since Elijah left though perhaps he should force himself to do so.  He paused and turned, catching sight of a table that wasn’t crowded.  In fact, the only people sitting there were Viggo and Andy.  

They were focused on each other, trays pushed aside, ignoring the noise around them.  Andy was talking, his hands making shapes in the air.  David, swallowed, hit by a sudden tactile memory of those hands on his body a week ago.

At that point, Viggo looked out over the crowd, making eye contact with David.  Viggo smiled at him, and gestured with hand and head a clear invitation to join them.  Andy, apparently picking up on Viggo’s shift of attention, looked over, following Viggo’s eyes to David.  

Andy’s eyebrows went up, and he smiled and spoke to Viggo who nodded, smile broadening.

David, feeling the blood rise to his face, suddenly decided to find another table.  Turning on his heel, he crossed to the other side, back stiff.  It was stupid, he told himself, to suddenly feel himself back in school,  but he couldn’t help feeling that he had been the subject of at least one conversation between those two.  And while it might be rude, he didn’t think he could make himself sit down and talk to them naturally.  Not now.

Challenge

The dining area had cleared earlier, but David sat on after a late lunch reviewing some of the latest revisions for the scenes between Denethor and Faramir, between Denethor, Gandalf and Faramir, all leading up to the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.  The conflict with Denethor has escalated with Pippin’s confirmation of Boromir’s death.  Faramir is pushed to live up to his dead brother’s legacy.  

Lost in the imagined world of the film, David was startled when a shot glass full of gold liquid suddenly appeared in front of him.  He looked up to see the hand pushing the glass toward him belonged to Viggo who was sitting down across the table.  He was in costume, including his sword which he had to adjust carefully to sit on the low bench.

“You should be glad I’m not an Orc,” Viggo said.  “Faramir would’ve been dead.”  He poured another glass for himself from an aluminum flask.  

David smelled tequila.  He looked directly into Viggo’s eyes and pushed the full glass away.  

“No,” he said, waiting a beat before saying, “Thank you.”

“Waste not, want not,” came a cheerful voice from above and behind him.  

Andy flung himself down beside David, sprawling over the bench, his back to the table, reaching around him to scoop the shot glass up.  With a “Cheers, mates,” he emptied the glass.  Viggo drank his slowly, eyes on David.  

David was more than aware of the strong body pressed close on his left, nearly as close as they had been that night in the alley.  Andy was wearing what looked like the same black jeans and shirt.  

David didn’t regret that night, but he wasn’t sure if he’d take Andy up on his offer.  And when he thought about what he’d said to Viggo and the result, he still shuddered.

Viggo’s smile and the intensity of his gaze made David sure that Andy had talked.  But he refused to look away.

“I think we can take it that you are not drunk,” Viggo said, his voice affecting David roughly the same way the tequila would have, smoky and gold.  “How’s the broken heart?”

“None of your business,” David suggested, smiling, or at least showing his teeth, and jumped when Andy’s hand suddenly ran up his thigh, cupping him, rubbing through the heavy cloth of his costume.

“This certainly isn’t broken,” purred Andy.

David grabbed Andy’s wrist and, not without difficulty, removed his hand, not breaking eye contact with Viggo.

David called on Faramir’s anger, never expressed, with his father.  “No.”

Viggo stood, then bowed his head briefly, a gesture David recognized as Aragorn’s.

“Namarie.  Come on, Andy.”

Andy followed him without saying anything.  David waited until they’d left the area, then slowly lowered his face into his hands, careful not to disturb his wig.  They could touch up his makeup easily enough, usually did after lunch anyway.  Maybe deep breathing would help.  He wasn’t at all sure how he was going to get through the afternoon.  

Rising Scent

David stood outside the pub, leaning against the wall, enjoying the contrast between the warmth and noise inside and silent coolness outside.  He held a beer he’d been nursing all night.  Elijah had been gone the last week with Sean, filming more of Frodo and Sam’s journey to and through Mordor.  

Before he’d left, after that last insane night that started at this pub, they’d talked.  Nothing really settled, David thought, except by default.  Elijah had been feeling trapped.  Wanted more space.  The usual kind of thing.  

Thinking about it now, David was just as glad the schedule had called for Elijah and Sean to be at another location for a couple of weeks.  Maybe it would be easier when he got back.  Tipping his head back, he finished the warm beer and thought about turning in.

“Want another?”  Andy’s voice.

David jumped, nearly dropping the empty bottle.

“Do you always have sneak up on a person?” he growled.  And wondered why always from his left side.

“Ssssssssneak, ssssssneak, yesssss, my Precioussssssssss!”  Andy coughed, resumed his normal voice, and handed him a cold beer.  “Sorry.  It gets to be a habit after a while.  Cheers.”

They clinked bottles, drank, David a bit wary and glad that Andy was keeping a couple of feet between them as he slouched companionably against the wall.  And even more glad when Andy started a conversation about the difference between training and working as an actor in Australia and England.

David was glad to contribute his ideas, but found himself listening more and more, fascinated, especially with the stories about the Royal Shakespeare Company.  He didn’t like feeling like a colonial, but couldn’t help a twinge or two of it as Andy talked.  They agreed that New Zealand was unique.

Finishing his beer, David stood upright.  “Thanks—I owe you one.  Next time, OK?   Right now, I’m heading home.”

“Night, then.  I’ll take the empty.”  As Andy straightened, he ran his hand, warm and hard, directly down David’s spine, the pressure transforming into heat and tingling throughout David’s body.  

Pulling the beer bottle out of his hand, Andy turned to go in.  “I’ll be looking forward to next time,” he promised, and disappeared into the noisy bar.

David walked home alone telling his body to shut the hell up.

Burning Scent

A few days later, David suddenly found himself the main focus of Viggo’s camera.  He already knew that Viggo was a photographer as well as poet and actor and had been photographing everyone.  He’d even been part of a few group shots before this.  

But today, Viggo wasn’t filming during the afternoon, and he was hanging around the Gondorian sets.  He stood out, even in the amazing and motley group of actors, extras, crew, and stuntpeople.  David wondered if it was just the combination of sword plus camera plus jeans that resulted in such a sense of cognitive dissonance.  Or  maybe it was just David’s own problem.

Viggo wasn’t only shooting David, but it was mostly David, or Faramir.

Given the number of cameras focusing on the actors in any given scene, it was odd that this single camera, small in Viggo’s large hands, should suddenly take on so much importance.  But it did.  David felt more and more self-conscious, even started to lose his lines.

After several hours, when he wasn’t needed any more and was through for the day, he confronted him.

“So, am I going to be hung on that wall of yours?” he said, trying to make a joke of it, then nearly biting his tongue out when Viggo grinned at his phrasing.

Perhaps taking pity on him, Viggo didn’t pursue it.  “Have you seen it?” he asked.

“Nope.  But I’ve heard so many stories I feel I have.”

“Would you like to?” Viggo asked, turning slightly away from the fuss and chaos as the crew worked around them.

“Sure.”

They walked in silence to Viggo’s trailer.  Inside, David was stunned.  The stories hadn’t prepared him for the incredible collage of images that surrounded the mirrors and flooded the ceiling.  The clutter of makeup, costume, clothing, dirty dishes, and generic mess of a dressing room paled in comparison to the fractals of the images.

Viggo stood beside him as he tried to get a sense of the kaleidoscope of it all, seeing images of actors, of the characters they played, fantastic shots of what he assumed were parts of New Zealand, some of which he recognized from the locations he’d shot at.

“It’s incredible,” David breathed, tilting his head to follow an almost perceived pattern onto the ceiling.

“Thanks,” Viggo said, his tone ironic.  “Would you mind being hung on it?”

David flushed, hearing the mimicry.  “Not at all,” he managed, taking refuge in formality.

“I’ve seen the rushes of some of your scenes in Ithilien,” Viggo said, his voice softening.  “I love those sections in the book.  Some of Tolkien’s most beautiful writing, the description of that country.  I’m not sure the film will ever be able to do what the book can, at least for that part.”

David flushed, not knowing what to say.  But he didn’t need to say anything as Viggo continued, not looking at him.

“I want to take you to Ithilien, photograph you there.  I want you nude in the woods, sun and shadow pooling on your skin, as you stand against a tree.  Or spread in the grass.  And at night under a full moon, standing in the pool, drops of water shining on your skin.  Part of the land but aware, spirit and body both.”

Viggo turned to look at him, and David was trapped in his burning gaze, breath stopped and heart beating wildly.  He wanted to run out of the trailer.  He wanted to fall at Viggo’s feet like Gollum.  He wanted Viggo, wanted that passion.

A moment passed.  Two.  Viggo said nothing, gave him every chance to leave, then, slowly leaned forward, David still not moving, for a kiss.

Closing his eyes, David opened his lips to a kiss that was every bit as memorable as the first one, one he’d told himself was more tequila than reality.  But reality trumped him.  Tequila had nothing on the intoxication of Viggo.

The world narrowed to the warmth of Viggo’s lips and tongue—he didn’t touch David any other way—until the kiss ended and Viggo’s hand settled on his shoulder.  

Dizzy, David blinked at him, and waited.

“This will be the last time I ask,” Viggo promised.  “Your ‘no’ this time will end it.”  He paused.  

David said nothing.

“I was thinking my place, this weekend, you, Andy, and me.  I’ll cook dinner, I have a new curry recipe, and after....” his voice trailed off as his hand slipped down from David’s shoulder over his chest and trailed down his stomach.

“After?” David’s voice was hoarse.

Viggo’s smile appeared, the smile that radiated such joy, as his hand slipped between David’s legs.  “We’ll see what develops.”

David sucked air, backed away a step.  “Can...can I let you know, ah, tomorrow,” he managed, unsure about Andy and Viggo, but knowing if he stood here any longer he’d say yes to anything Viggo wanted.

Aragorn’s courtly half bow appeared again.  “Certainly,” Viggo said gravely.  “You can find me here tomorrow evening.”

Covert  

The best thing David could say about that night was that he wasn’t spending too much time worrying about Elijah.  

The worst thing was that he seemed to be spending every waking moment, and there were far too many, thinking about Viggo.  And Andy.  And Viggo and Andy.  And Andy and Viggo.

He threw himself over again, fighting the sheet around his legs.  Every movement in bed, every rasp of fabric against his skin, evoked memories, Andy’s hands, Viggo’s hands, Viggo’s lips.  Masturbation didn’t help.  Oh, he could ease himself for a while, but it didn’t stop his brain from replaying in detail those moments in the alley, in Viggo’s trailer, or from creating whole new scenarios.  

After a punishingly long and cold shower the next morning, sitting blearily over the strongest coffee he could make, David knew he was going to say yes.  

Double Back

After finishing the next day and getting out of costume and makeup, David walked to Viggo’s trailer.  The sun was going down, an incredible fanfare of reds and golds building in the West.

David realized that since he’d read the book several times, he was now always conscious of East and West, more aware of his physical location in relation to mountains or water, more aware of the sunrises and sunsets, as the world moved from Light to Darkness and back again.

He saw Viggo and Andy, both in jeans and casual shirts, leaning against the trailer.  Viggo saw him first, then Andy.  Feeling the impact of both their eyes, David paused, then made himself cross the distance between them.   

Both smiled, but neither spoke.  People were coming and going around all the trailers, so David felt fairly exposed, aware that anyone could hear them.  Silence seemed to grow around them.

David figured he might as well end the stalemate.  

“Yes.”

Viggo shifted along the trailer a little, inviting David with a gesture to stand between him and Andy.  David leaned back against the warm metal.

“How about Saturday, say around 7:00,” Viggo said.  “What do you like to drink?”  

David gave him credit for the neutral tone he achieved on that question, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Andy grinning.  On his left side again, he realized.  

“Saturday’s fine.  Not tequila,” he said firmly.  Leaning his head back and relaxing against the trailer, he said, “Beer.”

“Well, then,” Viggo said, sounding cheerful.  “I have some shopping to do.  Andy, you coming?”

“Not tonight.”

“See you tomorrow, then.”  Viggo nodded to both of them, then walked off to the parking lot.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Andy slid a bit closer to David.  “I know he’s only going to the grocery store tonight,” he said.  “Should I run by Dom’s little shop?”

David slid down the wall to sit cross-legged on the grass, hissing a long breath of exasperation between his teeth.  “Does everybody tell you everything, or what?” he asked. “Don’t you have enough work to do?”

Andy sat down cross-legged beside him, grinning.  “Youngsters tend to kiss and tell,” he started, pausing at David’s glare.

“‘Youngsters?’”

“OK, sorry, but Viggo’s special.  Elijah swore Orli to secrecy, which just meant Orli swore me to secrecy.  I haven’t told Viggo,” he protested in tones of exaggerated innocence. “Yet.”

“It doesn’t matter.  No.”

“But—“

“No.  I don’t know or trust either of you well enough.”  David waited a beat, then imitated Andy’s voice.  “Yet.”

Rising to his feet in one smooth move that he saw Andy enjoy, David paused a moment and gave in to the impulse to ruffle Andy’s curls.  “Depending on how Saturday night goes AND if you keep that story our little secret, I MIGHT think about reconsidering.”

David strolled off into the sunset feeling that for the first time he had one up on Andy.  

He figured he’d better enjoy it because it would never happen with Viggo!

Doubling the Horn

The curry was delicious, unlike anything David had ever tasted, though he wasn’t sure he needed that much information on the proper way to make a curry.  Viggo had cold beer, also juice and water, and David alternated beer with bottled water.

He was mildly surprised to find himself discussing politics over dinner.  Comparing notes on the idiocies committed by politicians in three countries resulted in a lively discussion.  As Viggo was clearing dishes away, having firmly refused help, Andy caught them up on some of the most recent gossip.  Since he spent so much time with the technical people and in the workshops, he seemed to have access to a whole different set of stories than David had heard from fellow actors and the crew.

As Andy finished up a lengthy and dubious story about how John had acquired his most recent boat,  David felt Viggo’s hands on his shoulders, massaging them, then moving down to unbutton his shirt.

“Shall we, gentlemen?” Viggo said.

Viggo’s bedroom was large, sparsely furnished, the large bed with brass headboard and red silk sheets drawing the eye immediately.  

David watched as Andy peeled off his shirt and jeans, tossing them aside. Dark hair accented the muscles on his chest and stomach, grew thickly on his legs.  David’s shirt was hanging open, and he started to unzip his jeans, but Viggo’s hands came from behind to pull his shirt off his shoulders, then hold him still, wrapping around his arms and waist.  David could feel Viggo’s bare chest against his back and hazily wondered when he’d taken his shirt off.

“Andy?” Viggo said.

“With pleasure!”  Andy crossed to David, undid his jeans, and started sliding them down.  As he pushed David’s jeans over his hips, down his thighs, Andy sank to his knees, nuzzling, licking, then sucking David’s erection into his warm mouth.

Held firmly by Viggo from  behind, David could not thrust forward, could feel Viggo grinding against him, the soft denim he still wore doing little to mask his erection.  Andy’s mouth below, Viggo’s mouth at his neck, were hot and warm against his skin.  David felt his knees starting to go.  

Andy pulled away, rose and began to kiss David, tongue sinking into his mouth, rubbing against his body.

Viggo paused, then spoke softly.  “Andy, why don’t you lie down, and we’ll put David in the middle.”

When Andy moved to lie face down on the bed, Viggo pressed David forward.   “What would you like to do,” he said, breath warm in David’s ear, hands moving over his body, pulling his shirt off.

David remembered Andy’s hands on him, Andy inside him in the alley, and wanted to do more.  Leaning over, he pulled Andy closer to the edge of the bed, the slick sheets making it easy, and knelt between his legs which hung over the side of the bed.

David ran his hands up Andy’s legs, over his thighs, onto his rear.  Andy’s skin was already slick with sweat, and David cupped his hands, thumbs in the soft cleft, then leaned over to run his tongue along the path his hands traced.  Feeling Andy convulse under him, he angled his arms out to hold him down, tongue tracing up and down, swirling, to push inside Andy.

Lost in Andy’s response, David had not realized Viggo had moved away until he returned, kneeling behind David, pushing his legs apart.  A slick finger suddenly pushing into him caused David to jolt forward.  Andy thrust back, moaning, as David began to synchronize his movements to Viggo’s, licking his way deeper, feeling the tremors race through Andy’s body, feeling the warm body bracing him from behind, two fingers now twisting inside him.

“Will you two get on the goddamn bed and just do it,” Andy growled.

Viggo pulled back, stood, and hauled David to his feet as Andy moved forward and twisted to lie on his side.  As David tried to lunge after Andy, Viggo pressed a tube into his hand, then released him.

David slipped down onto the bed, warming the lube in his hand, coating himself, then pulling Andy to him, thrusting inside.  

The bed tilted behind him.  David felt Viggo’s hands, then cried out as he was filled in one movement, almost painful at first, then flashing to a growing warmth.  The dual pleasure of being inside Andy while Viggo took him almost finished David, but he made himself breathe slowly, managed to continue.  

Viggo set the rhythm, movement translated through David into Andy.  Sweat slicking his skin, David was surrounded, lost in sensation, aware of pleasure growing, doubling back on itself, building to a new intensity.  

Andy cried out as David’s hand gripped him, stroking, and came.  

David came, then, but Viggo continued for some time before David felt the hot wetness spurt inside and Viggo collapse against his back.  

Warm between the two strong bodies, David closed his eyes, drifting.

Some time later, David became aware of Andy climbing out of bed, water running in the bathroom, the rustle of clothing.  Viggo was still lying behind him, arms around him, breathing deep and steady.

The bed tilted, and David opened his eyes to see Andy sitting, leaning over them.

“A memorable evening, gentlemen!” he said, then leaned over to kiss first Viggo, who told him goodnight, and then David, who didn’t know what to say.

He paused to whisper in David’s ear, “Are you reconsidering?” then slid off the bed and was quickly out of the bedroom, flipping the light off.  David heard the door open and close.

David wondered a minute, then decided he might as well ask.  “Should I leave?” he said.

Viggo’s arms tightened around him.  “Not unless you want to.  Andy always does.  Like the cat who walk alone.  I don’t know if it’s the influence of Gollum on him, or if he was always that way.”

David didn’t even have to debate it with himself.  Much nicer to snuggle back against Viggo and drift off to sleep.

 Full Cry

David woke later, conscious of his full bladder.  He slipped out of bed, groped his way into the bathroom, and took care of it

When he came back to the bed, he thought Viggo was still asleep and tried to climb back in carefully.  He thought he’d succeeded so nearly jumped out of his skin when Viggo rolled over and threw an arm over him.  

“Restless sleeper?” Viggo asked, breath warm against his neck.

“Too much to drink at dinner,” David mumbled.

A snort of laughter made him clench his teeth and mentally add another five years to his tequila ban.  

“Water!  I don’t normally—“ he began, only to be interrupted by Viggo’s warm hand across his mouth.

“I know.  Sorry.”

David relaxed and enjoyed the feel of Viggo’s hand moving down his throat, over his chest.  But there was one question that he’d been wondering about for some weeks.  It was probably stupid to ask, but....

“I was wondering....” he began.

“Yes?”

“How much of this is related to my big brother?”

Silence, Viggo’s hand halted, flat on his stomach.  David tensed, wondering if he’d pushed too far.  

“Some.  Not all.  Have you been talking to Andy?”  Viggo’s voice was neutral.

“Not about you.  To Elijah.”

“Ah.  Well, you should give yourself some credit.  And I might ask the same.”

“What?”

“How much of this is about Elijah?”

David sighed.  “Some.  Not all.”

Viggo’s hand started moving again.  Then out of the dark, his voice tequila smooth, going straight down David’s backbone, he said, “I meant every word I said about photographing you in Ithilien.  Any time.”

David gasped, erect even before Viggo’s hand touched him.  “Not for the wall, I trust,” he managed, feeling Viggo leaning over him.

“No.  For my private collection,” Viggo said, before kissing him.

There hadn’t been a kiss the night before, David dimly realized, opening again to the intensity of Viggo’s mouth, feeling the fire burn down every nerve in his body.

Head spinning, David felt himself gently rolled over onto his belly.  Trembling, he spread his legs, waiting for the swift thrust he remembered from last night.  But this time, Viggo entered him slowly, gently, almost tentatively.

The night before had been intense, deep, and hard.  This time was a sustained, controlled, blissful torture.  Viggo’s hard body pinned him down, and his rhythm was unhurried, as he moved deep within and then slowly out, nearly withdrawing, moving back, pausing, then starting again.  Time fell away, and David could not tell how long it was lasting.  

His heart raced, and he felt sweat slicking his body.  And still Viggo went on.  Each time David was close to climax, Viggo would pause, let him fall away, then begin again.  David heard himself begging, babbling, dimly, over the racing of his breathing.  He was trembling uncontrollably, trying to push up, trying to find his way over the wall Viggo was hanging him over, holding him back from.  

Finally, a century later, Viggo shoved his legs further apart, slid a hand around to grab him, and thrusting deeper and harder, rocketed David over the wall and into an explosion of sensation, a burst of darkness that bloomed into light.  

Unable to move under Viggo’s weight, not wanting to move, David lay gasping for air, feeling the sweat cooling on his skin.  He didn’t remember the moment he slid into sleep.

Hunt Breakfast

Viggo’s voice woke David.

“The view is wonderful, but I assume you’d like breakfast?”

David forced his eyes fully open.  He was lying spread eagled on red silk sheets.  And he was starving, hungrier than he’d been in more than a week.

 He rolled over, feeling some deep down aches, only to be hit in the face with a large fluffy towel.  

“Oops,” Viggo said, sounding not at all sorry.  “Extra toothbrushes in the bottom drawer.  And when you’re done, there’ll be French toast—my special recipe.”  He disappeared from the doorway.

David staggered out of bed.  While his stomach was definitely interested in the French toast, his only thought was that his life had probably gotten more complicated.

CHAPTER 9  THREE CONVERSATIONS

1.  No

David and Elijah were together on the big leather couch in David’s living room, half sitting, half lying, with Elijah sprawled more or less on top of David, talking.  Back from nearly two weeks filming of some of the Mordor sequences, Elijah was eloquent on the sufferings he (and Sean) had endured.  The cold, requiring frequent breaks involving hot water bottles, and the multiple shots requiring them to keep eating the “lembas” bread.  The prop bread, prepared by a local bakery, in no way replicating the wonderful flavour Tolkien described the elven waybread as having.  And, of course, the on-going litany about the Feet.  Sean was making a list of the number of times they’d had to wear the Feet but none of the shots included the Feet!

David made sympathetic noises, agreeing he’d had life much easier.  The battle sequences were boring in some ways, but at least they weren’t on remote location.  And as Faramir, he didn’t have to endure the time spent applying prosthetic feet, and the additional time spent removing them at the end of a full day of filming.  

Sometimes David thought the shared Feet experience was what first created the bond between the hobbits.  

Elijah ran down, more or less.  Then, he asked “Did anything exciting happen down here?”

David thought about what he could reply, and censored it.  “Not particularly.  Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?”

“I suppose,” Elijah said, running his hands up David’s chest, to hold his head.  “Maybe in a bit.”  His hands cradling David’s head, he leaned down for a kiss, then paused.  

Pushing the neck of David’s t-shirt aside, he pressed two fingers on the spot where his neck met his shoulder.

David felt the pressure against what he knew was the fading bruise, remembered Viggo’s mouth hot and sucking there, and knew he was turning red.

Elijah smiled, looked into David’s eyes.  “So, are you going to tell me about this?”

David breathed in, then out.   “No,” he said.

“No?  Isn’t that kind of mean?” Elijah said.

“Before you left for Mordor, you said you wanted more space, wanted not to be in an exclusive relationship.  I agreed.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d—“ Elijah’s voice trailed off as David raised an eyebrow (which he’d practiced for Faramir) and glared at him.

“Sorry,” mumbled Elijah.  “That was a stupid thing to say.”

“And I don’t kiss and tell,” David said.  

Elijah turned red, and David wondered who he’d talked to besides Orli.

“Have I asked you what you wanted “space” for?”

Elijah shook his head.

“OK, then.”  David thought it was settled.

“But I’ll be glad to tell you,” Elijah bounced up, his elbow hitting David right in the ribs, rendering him momentarily breathless.

David moved quickly, grabbing Elijah and slinging him in a fireman’s hold over his shoulder.

“I don’t WANT you to tell me,” he said, heading towards the bedroom.

As he moved down the hall, David had to use both hands to hold Elijah, who was laughing and trying to squirm away, firmly over his shoulder.  David thought he’d like to try one or two things he’d learned from Viggo the other night on Elijah.  Firmly suppressing the question of whether or not Elijah might recognize them, David made it through the bedroom door and dumped Elijah onto his bed.

2.  Not Yet

When Andy appeared beside him at lunch yet again, David hardly jumped.  Maybe he was getting used to this, he thought, although he was becoming obsessed with the fact that Andy always approached on the left side.  But he’d be damned before he’d ask.

David nodded at Andy, continued eating.

Andy smiled.  Waited.

“What?”  David knew he sounded irritated, but he didn’t really care.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well, I’m waiting.”

“For what?”  David decided that if Andy didn’t start making sense, he’d tip his glass of water into his lap.

Andy shook his head, tsk-ed to himself.  “Have you been suffering from memory loss lately,” he intoned, in a broadcasting voice.  “Waiting.  For your answer to my question.  I have one pending, remember?”  He heaved a mock sigh, placing a tragic hand against his brow.  “Or have you forgotten so quickly.  Reconsidering?”

“Oh.”  David considered the glass of water routine anyway, but decided against it.  “Not yet.”

“Huh?”  Andy seemed confused which made David happy.

“When you first asked, I said ‘no.’  Now I’m saying ‘not yet.’  So I’ve reconsidered, but that’s my answer.  I still don’t know you well enough.  I don’t know if I ever will.”  He drained his glass of water and stood, climbing out from behind the bench.

Given the eyes and ears around them, David settled for a clap on Andy’s shoulder.  “But feel free to check back with me later.”  Then he left.

3.  Yes

David stood at the bar in what seemed to have become one of the cast’s regular pubs.  It was crowded tonight, but not as badly as he’d seen it in the past.  The pool table was open although a killer game of darts seemed to be developing in the back area.  

No orcs playing tonight, the music was coming from a jukebox.  And the three on the dance floor holding everyone’s attention were Orli, Liv and Elijah.  David tried to repress a nasty sense of satisfaction at the expression on Dom’s face and finished his water.  Given the way his life was developing lately, he’d decided to swear off beer for a while as well as tequila.

“So, can I buy you another?”  The voice rode down David’s nerves, smoky gold.  He turned to see Viggo next to him.

“Sure.”  

David was silent as Viggo ordered and got two bottles of water then turned back to him.

“Any plans for this weekend,” Viggo said, eyes focused on the dance floor.

“Nope.  The hobbits and Orli are going bungee jumping.  I was invited, but declined.”

Viggo almost choked on his first swallow of water, and David pounded him on his back.  “Bungee jumping?  Does Peter know about this?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Lord help us all if something happens to any of them,” Viggo sighed.

“It’s one of the major tourist attractions and has a good safety record,” David assured him.  

“You don’t know Orli very well,” Viggo noted.  

David shrugged and drank more of his water, waiting to see what Viggo would say.

Viggo turned to look at David.  “I’m thinking of doing some photography Sunday,  Out in the woods.  Nature shots.  Would you like to come?”

David nearly inhaled his water the wrong way, but narrowly avoided it.  It helped that he didn’t think he could breathe at all at this point.  Finally, he was able to speak.

“Yes,” he said.    
   
CHAPTER 10: THE SHOOT

David couldn’t believe it. When Viggo had talked about photographing him in Ithilien, David had just assumed he’d meant it metaphorically—he was a poet after all.  So they’d just go out in the woods somewhere and call it Ithilien.

But, no, they’d taken the ferry to the South Island and driven up the Motueka valley.  They weren’t in the same locations that Peter had used, but close enough.  After lunch, they’d hiked until Viggo found a location he liked.  David found the whole countryside beautiful, but was glad they’d found a fairly deserted area.

And David had been more or less standing around in the woods nude the last couple of hours.  Which, he was realizing, sounded a lot better in theory than in practice.  

David sighed, shifting his weight to move his foot off a stone, and was rewarded by a growl from Viggo.  Something about the light.

He should have known better, he thought.  He’d done some work as a model for life drawing classes during his starving actor years.  That had been boring enough.  This took boring and added unique discomforts including a chill breeze and a nasty bite on his rear from some obnoxious New Zealand insect.  The sequence where Viggo had wanted him draped over a fallen log had been the worst.  The rough bark was bad enough, but then the ants had appeared.

The only good thing was that the Forbidden Pool was definitely out.  That location had been a set in Wellington.  Although he wasn’t sure Viggo wouldn’t insist on finding some body of water.  At that point, David figured he’d protest, having heard Sean’s lament about the temperature of the water he’d had to endure during the breaking of the Fellowship sequence.  If necessary, David planned to point out at great length that the Moon wasn’t full.

He took advantage of Viggo pausing to reload his camera to move before his left leg went completely numb.  He’d been keeping an eye on what looked like a fairly soft patch for the last fifteen minutes, and it was only a few steps away.  

“I have an idea for a totally new sequence,” he said, stretching out on his back and flinging an arm dramatically across his closed eyes.  “Napping Nude!”

A pause.  Silence seemed to grow around them.  He heard Viggo approach, slowly, and grinned.  He’d hoped this pose could cut the photography session short.

A rustle, then he felt Viggo’s leg brush his thigh.  Still silent.  David started as Viggo’s hand, which felt uncharacteristically cold, tentatively settled on his chest.  

David dropped his arm and opened his eyes to see Viggo kneeling beside him, tears in his eyes.  Shocked speechless for a moment, he suddenly realized the problem.  Shit.

David had seen the rushes, the blonde man, the arrows penetrating his body, lying on his back in the woods, Aragorn kneeling over him.  His attempt at healing rejected, all he can do is swear to save Boromir’s City and people, to take up his rightful role as King.  Even viewing the scenes in such a rough form, the passion the two men shared was palpable.  As was Aragorn’s grief.  And given what Elijah had told him....shit.

And here they were, in the woods, in this pose.  

David sat up, grabbing Viggo’s shoulders,  “Viggo, I didn’t think—“

Under his hands, Viggo’s muscles were tense.  He felt hard and cold, rigid.  Then he moved suddenly and with furious purpose.  His arms came up to grasp David’s arms.  He shoved David backwards, hard enough to leave him breathless, pinning him down with an arm across his chest, shoving his legs apart.  Viggo moved between David’s legs, unzipping his jeans, pausing a moment to shove his legs up and back.

It all happened so fast, David was unsure how to respond.  Given the terms of Viggo’s invitation, he’d expected sex, and based on that first night, would have welcomed it.  But not like this.  Not this way.  Feeling Viggo’s weight holding him down, his arm an iron bar, he didn’t think he could move.

With no more than a perfunctory use of saliva, Viggo began forcing himself inside.  Gasping, David saw Viggo’s face, his eyes shut, a grimace that looked more like pain than lust, teeth biting into his lower lip so hard it bled.

David shut his eyes then, trying to breathe deeply, relax, ride out the pain.  He felt a flicker of pleasure deep inside, but then it was over, so fast he couldn’t believe it, with Viggo falling across him as if he’d been bludgeoned, gasping out one word which seemed to echo loudly.

“Sean.”

Viggo was so limp David wondered if he was conscious.  He lay quietly under Viggo for a few moments wondering if there was anything he could say or do that wouldn’t make things worse.  

Viggo stirred then, raising himself on his arms to look at David a moment in silence.  Then:  “That.....was inexcusable,” he said.  “I’m sorry.”

David gently touched Viggo’s face, palm cupping his cheek, thumb wiping the trickle of blood that ran down his chin.  

“How long have you been hiding all this?” he asked.  Ever since David had arrived on set, he’d been aware of Viggo’s presence, the aura of controlled power, the flashing moments of  joy.  But nothing like this rage of sorrow.

Viggo stared at him, saying nothing, then moved to kissed him, gently.  David could taste the saltiness of blood, but as before, Viggo’s kiss was warm and intense.  David could feel himself start to respond.  But  when Viggo’s hands began moving over his body, he grabbed Viggo’s wrists.  

Viggo looked at him, a faint frown on his face.  David could hardly believe this face was hiding what he’d seen earlier.  The memory made him wonder how much of the Viggo he’d seen had been an act.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” David said, “so don’t do this just to avoid it.”

Viggo tensed again, under David’s hands and against his body.  David wondered what he would do if Viggo tried to force him.

The moment passed, and David released Viggo who stood, offering David a hand.  “Let’s go,” he said.

David accepted the hand and was pulled easily to his feet.  It only took a few minutes to dress, but even so David had to hurry to catch up to Viggo who had started back to the car.

The hike back to the car, the drive back to the ferry, and the crossing were all done in silence.  David didn’t try to break it until they were driving back into Wellington.

“If you’re not talking to me,” he said, “it’s going to be an awfully short coronation.”  And healing, he thought, but did not say.  That tragic difference, Aragorn not being able to heal Boromir but healing Faramir, did not need to be evoked.

Viggo laughed, and David relaxed slightly.  

“Dinner?” Viggo asked.

David considered it.  “What do you want to do?” he asked.

Pausing at a red light, Viggo rubbed his forehead a minute.  “We could get something and go back to my place.  I think,”  he paused to draw a deep breath and slowly release it, “we, I, do need to talk.”

“Fine with me.”

They stopped at a place Viggo knew for the food.  Despite what he’d said, Viggo talked little during the meal, and David just waited.  He wasn’t going to push him anymore than he already had.

Afterwards, Viggo opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses.  David sipped his while watching Viggo swallow two glasses rapidly.  

It was dark outside, but Viggo had only turned one light on, a floor lamp that shone brightly in the corner but cast only a dim pool of light over the table where they sat.  

Finally, pouring his third glass, Viggo spoke, staring into the wine.  “I don’t know what you might have heard, but the truth is, we spent the first few months just kidding around, friends, but always with a bit of an edge.  Sometimes we got caught up in the interaction between our characters, sometimes it was just us, sometimes some weird mix.”

David nodded, knowing what that felt like.  He’d seen Elijah first as Frodo, a hobbit, and that perception, mixed with Tolkien’s focus on that character, seemed at times to underlie a lot of his feelings.  And he could not always separate Aragorn and Viggo.

“But one night, something changed.  On all levels. And that made the next few months amazing.”  Viggo finished his wine and sat staring at the empty glass between his hands.  “And then he left.”

Through the growing silence in the room, David waited.  

Viggo gently set the glass down and pushed it away from him.  Finally, he looked at David.

“And maybe I’m not handling it as well as I thought I was,” Viggo admitted.

“Acting while you’re off-camera as well as on?” David asked.

Viggo nodded.

“Which takes a lot of energy.”  David stood up, walked around the table, and slowly laid his hands on Viggo’s shoulders.  Keeping an eye on his body language, he started rubbing them gently.  

“Yeah.”  As he spoke, Viggo’s body relaxed slightly under David’s hands.

“And then I came on location and you had to deal with Boromir’s brother.”

“You and Sean are very different..” started Viggo.

“Thank goodness for that,” David muttered, still rubbing.

“But as Faramir, I don’t know how, it’s like you are his brother, Boromir, I mean, I don’t know how you accomplished it.”

David thought of how he and Peter had worked on developing that sense of kinship, the shared sense not only of warriors defending a City under deadly threat but under the punishing pressure of a demanding father, never satisfied.  That sense was part of what made them vulnerable to the Ring in the same way.  He was glad to hear that Viggo had seen that, but they didn’t need to talk about that now.  David’s hands moved down to Viggo’s upper back.

“And today, in the woods....” Viggo leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands against his eyes.  “I’ve imagined a scene like that, I know, but I swear I never intended.....when you were lying there...”

David’s hands paused.  “I hope you know I didn’t mean to...”

“Of course not.  There’s no excuse for what I did, but I am sorry.”

David started rubbing Viggo’s back again, gently.  “Apology accepted.  But if you ever try anything like that again, I warn you, I can fight dirty.”

Viggo’s voice was grim.  “If I ever try anything like that again, you have my permission to do whatever you need to do.”

“Deal.”

Viggo felt more relaxed now, and David paused, his hands still on the broad shoulders.  

“I’m tired,” David said, “and you must be too.  I should leave.”

A warm hand settled on his, lightly.  

“Would you stay?”

David hesitated a moment, weighing all that had happened today in the balance, all that had happened since the night Viggo had helped him home.  Finally, he spoke.

“Yes.”  

When he felt the final tension leave Viggo’s shoulders, he knew he’d said the right thing.

“But only if I can bum a shower,” he declared.  “Between the dirt and the moss and the ants today, I’m a mess.”

“You know where everything is, so help yourself,” Viggo said, matching his light tone.

After David had showered, he went into the dark bedroom where he cold see Viggo’s shape in the bed.  Crawling in, he curled up on his side, nearer the edge of the bed than the middle.

A few minutes later, when Viggo’s arm slipped around his chest and pulled him closer, David hugged the arm to him and relaxed against Viggo’s warm body.  Feeling sure that he was no longer being confused with his ‘older brother,’ David slid into sleep.

CHAPTER 11:  SEAN ARRIVES, DAVID AND ANDY COME

Tonight, David was sitting at one of the back tables.  Viggo had gone to pick Sean up at the airport, and they should be arriving soon.  Sean was coming back to do some pickup scenes and some “flashback” scenes with David and John Noble.  The pub was crowded with cast and crew who were eager to see Sean.  David had his script with the latest revisions added with him, but was only pretending to work through it.

Noise at the door heralded the arrival of a tall blond man followed by Viggo.  David saw how all movement in the large room focused on Sean who was dispensing hugs, backslaps, and kisses with glee.  His progress across the room could only be described as glacial.

Viggo, standing behind him, seemed content to let the general greeting go on a while.  But after ten or fifteen minutes, he seemed to become restless.  He began scanning the room until he saw David. When their eyes met, Viggo’s grin widened.

David maintained eye contact until Viggo broke it off, leaning over to say something in Sean’s ear.  

Sean then looked over to where David was sitting, then nodded to Viggo.  Both men started to make their way through the crowd.  

Almost unconsciously, David stood as they approached the table.  

“Sean, this is David Wenham.  David, Sean Bean.”

David took Sean’s hand, unsurprised at the strength of his grip.  After all, Sean had gone through the same training with Bob Anderson that Viggo had.

“Welcome back,” David said.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want something to drink?”

Both asked for beer, and David started through the crowd to the bar as they sat down.  When he returned with three bottles, Sean started asking him about his work as Faramir.

They talked for a while about what Peter planned for their flashback scene, the sense of how their characters related to Denethor.   David had already done some scenes with John Noble, and he warned Sean how great a job Noble was doing with this character.  

“He’s a cold and powerful bastard,” David said.

“That’s appropriate. Of course, he’ll warm up some in his death scene,” Sean laughed.

David noticed that Viggo wasn’t talking, but his eyes were warm, watching the two of them.  Sean seemed slightly manic, restless and jittering in his seat, drinking his beer too fast, talking loudly.

After Sean repeated his story about the flight attendant, David looked at Viggo.  “I think he’s suffering from jet lag.  Don’t you think you ought to put him to bed?”

“It’s a thought,” Viggo said, smiling at David.  “Sean,” he said, interrupting him in mid-flight.  “Are you tired?”

“Fuck, yes, now that I think about it,” Sean said, breaking into a huge yawn.  

Viggo stood and pulled Sean to his feet.  “Let’s go then.”  He looked at David.  So softly that Sean did not notice, he said, “Thank you.”  Then he left, steering Sean out.

David watched them leave, side by side, almost moving in unison.  They walked together as if they were used to it, as if they had spent months traveling together.  Their focus on each other almost shone as they left the pub.   

David tilted his chair back, resting his head against the wall behind him and closing his eyes.  That short conversation had been one of the most emotionally draining he’d ever had, almost every word considered as he walked a tightrope, conscious of Viggo watching him.

He wondered what filming the scenes Peter had planned for Denethor, Boromir, and Faramir was going to be like.

Watching Viggo and Sean sitting across from him, watching them leave together and knowing what was probably, no, certainly, going to be happening, despite jetlag, in a little while, was making him feel ready to jump out of his skin.  Since Elijah was off on another one of the hobbit adventures along with Orli, David reflected, thinking about what HE was likely to be doing didn’t help matters any.  

“Drink?”

David jumped, and his chair thumped down.  It was, of course, Andy, standing there.  

“Damnit, how do you do that?”

“Do what?”  Andy produced a look of total innocence.   Instead of his usual black t-shirt and jeans, he was wearing bluejeans and a white shirt.  

“Never mind.  Yes, I’d like a drink, but I owe you one.  So sit down.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?”  Andy pulled a chair around backwards so he could sit on it and rest his arms on the back.

“No.”  

David crossed to the bar where he ordered two tequila shots and two beer chasers.  Sometimes you had to break your own rules.  “Or what are rules for,” he muttered as he paid for the drinks.

Returning to the table, he put one shot and a beer down in front of Andy, then sat down.

“Cheers!” he said, then tossed his tequila down and looking at Andy.

Andy was watching him closely, half smiling, his drink untouched.

“I saw Sean arrive,” he said.

“Yep.”  David drank some of his beer.

“You two have a nice talk?”

“Very nice.”

“And?”  Andy finally moved, sipping his tequila.

“And what?”  David drank more beer.

“And then what happened?”

“Sean’s gone to sleep off his jetlag.”

“With Viggo?”

David finished his beer.  “Why don’t you ever stay the night?” he asked.

“What?”  Andy sat back on his chair, nearly spilling his tequila.

“That night, after you left, Viggo told me you always do that.  Why?”  David shoved his empty beer bottle aside and took Andy’s.

“What’s it matter?  It’s not important,” Andy said.

“Then why not tell me?”  

“Why do you want to know?”  Andy was frowning, his arms crossed in front of him now sending the message of self defense rather than relaxation.

David sighed loudly, leaning forward, arms resting on the table, staring down at the bottle he held.  “One, because I’m planning on hitting on you tonight.  Two, I’m not going down any more alleys.  Three, before I invite you back to my place, I want to know why you always leave right afterwards.”

Andy’s mouth dropped open, and David congratulated himself on surprising him.  He waited.

“It really isn’t that big a deal,” Andy said.  “Look, I sometimes have really bad nightmares is all, and because I’m a heavy sleeper, it’s hard to wake me up.  I broke a friend’s nose once, flailing around.”

“That’s all?”  David couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, well, it’s sort of embarrassing, but that’s why.”  Andy finished his tequila and set the glass down.

They looked at each other a minute, then David said, “Do you want to go back to my place?”

“Yes.”

* * * * * * *

David unlocked his door, then stood back for Andy to enter first.  Not only was that polite, it gave David the opportunity to pounce on Andy from behind.

Twisting in his arms just like Gollum, Andy shoved him against the wall, holding his hands over his head, then kissing him.  Andy tasted like tequila and kissed almost as well as Viggo.

“Which way to the bedroom,” Andy asked, unzipping David’s jeans.

“Left.”

David tried hooking one foot behind Andy’s knee to throw him off balance, which almost worked, and they wrestled their way down the hallway.  David was trying to get Andy off balance while Andy was trying to get David’s clothes off.  By the time they’d reached the bedroom, Andy had gone down on one knee briefly, but David was shirtless and his jeans were around his ankles, caught on his shoes.  

David couldn’t really walk, but the bed wasn’t far.  Andy half-dragged, half-carried him the few feet to the bed, slung him on it, and pinned him down.

David twisted under him, excited by the sensation of restraint, feeling his heart beat faster.   Something about tonight, about the earlier conversation, made him want more of this feeling.

“Andy,” he said.

“Hmmm?”  Andy’s mouth was busy on David’s nipple.

“I’ve reconsidered.”

Andy switched to his other nipple, not bothering to reply.

“Andy.  Look in the bottom drawer.”

A pause, then, “What?”

It was dark in the room, but David felt Andy’s weight shift.

“The nightstand.  Turn the light on.  Look in the bottom drawer.”

“All right, but don’t move.”

“I won’t.”  David felt Andy slide off him, then off the bed.  He kicked off his shoes and jeans as the light came on.  David blinked, then turned his head to watch Andy.

Andy was kneeling by open the drawer.  After a few moments spent staring in silence, he turned to look at David.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Andy rose, sat back on the bed, to ask “Top or bottom?”

“I want to be right where I am now,” David said, staring into Andy’s dark eyes, seeing the promise there.

Andy nodded and reached back into the drawer to pull out the ropes.  David recognized the knot he used as he tied his wrists together and looped the rope through the brass headboard.  David also realized that he wouldn’t have protested if he didn’t recognize it. His breath quickened.

Andy tied his ankles together then looped that rope to the footboard.

Then he got undressed and knelt back down to consider the open drawer.

“I just have one question,” he said.

“What?”

“Who picked out this stuff?”

David rolled his eyes.  “Elijah,” he said shortly.

“My, my.  What a nice boy he is.”  A silence.  “Can I come play with you two sometime?”

“No.”

Rising to his feet, Andy rolled David over onto his belly.  “Is that any way to talk to the bloke who just tied you up?”

“I’d prefer the bloke who just tied me up to be concentrating on me.”

“You have a point.”

David heard Andy rummaging around in the drawer, dropping stuff onto the bed.  Then Andy sank onto David’s thighs, his hands running down David’s back and rear, thumbs dipping into his cleft, hands squeezing.  One finger, slick with lube, probed gently, pushing inside, twisting.

David twisted against the ropes and Andy’s weight.  

A second finger joined the first, and Andy’s other hand slipped under David to rub, then pinch his nipple.  Andy leaned over, began sucking on David’s throat.  The fingers continued to twist, moving in and out, and David moaned.  Three fingers.

The fingers slipped out, and David felt something else take their place, ridged, sinking deep.

“I do like that boy’s taste,” Andy breathed, as he flipped the dildo’s switch.  The buzzing vibration went straight up David’s spine, and he arched, pulling against the ropes.

Andy moved off him, turning him over on his back, then sat across his legs again.  Helpless against the sensation filling him, David arched up again.

“Tsk, let’s not rush,” said Andy, and he leaned over momentarily, then back, to carefully place the gold ring (Elijah had insisted) at the base of David’s erection. The sensation of Andy’s warm hands and cold metal nearly finished David, and he breathed deeply a few moments, trying to relax.

Andy leaned over to hold David’s head and kiss him, deeply.  Then his mouth moved down David’s throat to first one nipple, then the other, which he sucked hard.  Then he applied the clamps which also vibrated.  David had never tried those before although Elijah loved them.  He’d thought they were a stupid idea, but was now reconsidering, feeling as if a circuit was closing inside him, the vibrations circling through him.

His weight pinning David down, Andy's warm mouth sucked him in.  David closed his eyes, panting.  

Small licks up and down followed by nibbles, fingers tracing down and around the ring, and under him to rock the vibrating dildo inside--David sank under so many sensations.

Andy rolled him over, turned off and slowly pulled out the dildo, then slowly thrust inside him.  David cried out, pushing back, demanding more.  Andy gave it to him, hard, powerful thrusts that vaulted David over pain and into a flood of pleasure as Andy reached under him to pull off  the ring and the clamps.  David sank into that hot, warm flood and was only dimly aware of Andy above him.

Moments later, David felt Andy roll off and untie the ropes.  The bed tilted as he stood up, then tilted again a bit later.

“David.”

“Hmmm?”

“So if I can’t play with you and Elijah, can I go play with him?

David rolled over to see Andy lying next to him, dressed, leaning on one elbow, and started laughing.  “You never give up, do you?

Andy grinned back, half shrugged.

“I don’t know.  Ask him yourself.  He’s a big boy who makes his own decisions.”   David said.  ““But you might have to armwrestle Orli and Dom.  And I’d suggest keeping ‘Gollum’ strictly under control.”

“Perhaps you’re right.  Oh, well.”  Andy leaned over and gave David a kiss.  “I’m off.”  He stood.

“I always knew that,” David said.

Andy laughed and left the room.  Eventually David mustered enough energy to shove the toys on the floor, turn off the light, and pull the covers over him.  Tomorrow was another day.

CHAPTER 12:  THE LORDS OF GONDOR

SCENE:  “WHO WILL GO?”

BOROMIR AND FARAMIR STAND IN FRONT OF DENETHOR IN THE GREAT HALL OF  THE CITADEL, ARGUING.

BOROMIR:  The dream tells us to seek for Imladris.  Since the way is full of doubt and danger, I should by chosen for this journey.   

FARAMIR:  The dream came to me first.  Brother, you are needed to command.  I should go to seek the unravelling of its hard words.  

DENETHOR SITS SILENTLY, EYES SHIFTING FROM ONE BROTHER TO THE OTHER, CONSIDERING.

Angry at his brother’s resistance, Boromir shoved him against one of the great black marble pillars that lined the Hall of the Citadel and rose to the high ceiling above, ending in capitals carved with strange beasts.  Faramir stared into the green eyes which were so close.  Boromir was frowning, his body pressed against Faramir’s.  

One hand held Faramir firmly by the shoulder.  The other had found its way up his leg, under his leather breastplate.  

Faramir’s problem wasn’t so much that his brother was feeling him up but that he was enjoying it.  

And that he’d forgotten his line.

“Cut,” Peter’s voice was tired, half laughing, half irritated.

The frown disappeared from Boromir’s face to be replaced by Sean’s grin.  When David had first seen that grin, he’d thought its manic quality was due to jetlag.   He’d rapidly learned that it was basic Sean who seemed to be permanently set on overdrive.

“Don’t you think Boromir’s likely to get physical here,” Sean said, not moving an inch, still firmly pressing David against the pillar which, David thought, probably wasn’t all that sturdy although it looked as if it was made of solid marble.  Lord know what the crew would do if they knocked it over.  “He’s getting pretty angry at his little brother...”

“No, Sean.” Peter said.  “I want you both focusing on your father. Denethor’s the one who is going to decide who will go.  The focus of the scene is on him.  He has to weigh his greater love for and belief in Boromir against his fears of the journey.  This decision, resulting in Boromir being the one to join the Fellowship in Rivendell, is key.”

“And the way Boromir is acting is likely to get him sent to his room, not to Imladris,” John added, shifting on the low chair that sat on the lowest step below the looming throne of Gondor.

David realized that Denethor’s chair was at the right angle to let John see where Boromir’s hand was.  Peter was standing off to one side and David thought the sightlines were wrong though he’d never want to guess what Peter could or could not see.  Plus, David wasn’t too sure about the cameramen.  He did not want to try to wrestle with Sean though, for several reasons..

“Let’s take a break for lunch,” Peter said.  “Back at 2:00.  Sean, can I talk with you a minute?”

Sean finally released David who left quickly, glad he wasn’t the one being summoned.  Sean had been back for four days, working on the flashback scenes.  The first had been Faramir’s vision of his dead brother which had gone well.  

Now they were working on the scene about which brother should journey to Rivendell.  This one was not going as well.  David wondered if that was why Sean had started fooling around.  Sean was scheduled for only one more day, and the last day was supposed to be dedicated to some pickup scenes.  They had to get this scene done this afternoon.

David dashed over to the dining area and got lunch.  This late, the selections were slightly less than earlier, but Flying Trestles still had incredible food available.  He couldn’t remember any project he’d worked on where the caterer was so good.  He sat down at a table in the back to eat.  

About ten minutes later, Sean, with a tray piled high with food, found his way to where David was sitting. Sean unloaded his tray without saying anything, spreading dishes all around him, and then settled down across the table to eat.

David said nothing and neither did Sean for a few minutes.  

Then Sean looked at him and said, “Don’t you think it’s likely that Boromir and Faramir were screwing around?”

David’s jaw dropped, and he could feel himself turning red. Casual flirtation, even a grope during a scene was one thing, but this!

“No,” he said flatly.

Sean continued as if David hadn’t spoken, setting his fork down in order to gesture emphatically. “Think about it.  Tolkien set his novel in a pre-Christian era.  Earlier societies didn’t have a prejudice against same-sex love.  The bond between warriors could include sex, even love.  The Sacred Band of Thebes was an elite group, all lovers, who were thought to be better warriors because no man would act the coward in front of his lover.  In Sparta, the men, like the Numenoreans, married late, and relationships between older and younger men were the norm.”

“Tolkien never described any sexual relationships between men,” David said.

“Hell, he didn’t describe any sexual relationships between men and women!  Or between women!  Or between the Horseslords and their horses!  Look at the bloody book.  The big romance between Aragorn and Arwen gets shoved into an appendix.  Tom Bombadil dances around reciting poetry and bringing waterlilies to his wife, big deal.  I’d have her flat out on that table in five minutes.  Sam doesn’t even think about Rosie Cotton until Book VI!  Plus, just about everyone who did marry has a dead wife.  Theoden, Denethor, Elrond.  Not to mention all the gay bachelors who never marry.  I grant you, there’s no sex in Tolkien.  But that just means he wasn’t interested in writing about it.  Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.  I like Pete’s decision to hint that Aragorn and Arwen were sleeping together in Rivendell--otherwise, you’d get a 2000 year old virgin marrying a guy who’s, what, almost a century old and might be a virgin himself.  Which would’ve made for a pretty miserable marriage if you ask me.”

David shook his head, setting his fork down.  He couldn’t eat and argue at the same time.  And he didn’t have the faintest idea of what to say about Sean’s reading of the book.  

He kept to the main issue.  “Faramir loves his brother, that’s clear in Tolkien.  I don’t think he could have expressed that kind of emotion if Boromir had sexually abused him, and--”

“I’m not talking about rape here.  I’m talking about what every boy does.  Weren’t you ever in a circle jerk with friends?”  Sean shoved his empty plate away and began eating an apple.

David felt defensive.  “Sure, but..”

“How old were you when you first started fooling around?”

“Thirteen, fourteen, maybe.”  

“That’s what I’m talking about.  Two teenagers fooling around, maybe giving it up after a few years, going on to other relationships, but I can just see them having one great night together for old time’s sake before Boromir has to leave on that journey.  Have you read the Appendices?”

“I skimmed them.”  David felt embarrassed to admit it, but the lists of dates and genealogical tables had not interested him.  He had no idea what to say in response to Sean’s scenario for their characters.  

“Boromir’s only five years older than Faramir. Their mother died when he was 10.  As the sons of the Steward, they probably wouldn’t have had a lot of friends.  Can’t see Denethor having many happy family hours by the fireside.  So the two boys would be isolated, thrown into each other’s arms, so to speak.  Then as adults, training as warriors in an all-male group...on long marches and campaigns...”  Sean raised one eyebrow with a wicked grin, inviting consideration of what might just have gone on during those campaigns.  “The chronology’s clear:  Boromir’s 40, Faramir 35, at the time of the novel.  And neither’s married.”

David felt this conversation was out of control and seemed to involve a lot more than he had assumed at the start.   Sean’d thought a lot about this.  

To make things even more complicated, David realized that Sean was speaking in Boromir’s voice and dialect and that David was responding as Faramir without even thinking about it.  Both had developed “voices” for their characters that were deeper and slower paced than their natural speaking voices.  It was easier to work with given the requirement that the characters have a standard dialect that was foreign to both actors.  This way, the pitch and dialect were associated with the character and could easily be assumed as a whole.  

Speaking as Faramir, though, inclined David toward acknowledging his older brother’s authority over him instead of responding to a fellow actor!  David remembered Viggo’s comment about a weird mixing up of his and Sean’s characters and selves in the first few months they’d worked together.  Was this what Viggo’d been talking about?  

“But it’d be incest,” David protested, not sounding all that convincing even to himself.

“Incest is best, they say,” Sean returned, grinning.

David found Sean sexy and mesmerizing, all the more so given his relationship to Viggo and how that had affected Viggo’s with David.  But the relationship with Sean’d had an effect on Viggo that David didn’t understand.  So he was sure he didn’t want anything to do with Sean outside their professional relationship.  No matter how sexy Sean was.  

Faramir loved his older brother, David was sure, and had looked up to him all his life even while coming to an awareness of his shortcomings as an adult.  They shared the experience of being sons of a difficult father after their mother’s death.  But he was pretty sure that was all they’d shared.  Or so he’d thought.

David shifted on the hard bench, aware that he was responding to Sean, or Boromir, or both, despite his good intentions.

“Well, just think about it,” Sean said, tossing down the apple core.  “I think it gives Boromir an extra reason to be protective of his little brother, and it certainly gives Faramir added emotional complexity when he learns of Boromir’s death is expected to replace him as the commander and heir.”  Sean shuffled the empty dishes back on his tray and stood.  “I’ll see you back on set.”  

David refused to watch Sean leave, and sat a while longer, brooding.  He didn’t see a sexual relationship for the two characters in the book or the movie.  He was also aware that he found the image dangerously attractive.  

Later that afternoon, for whatever reason, the earlier problems with the scene had disappeared. Sean was all business with never a glance or movement that wasn’t Boromir.  Yet David found himself aware of and responding to the character in a new way, Faramir feeling a more complex mixture of emotions for his older brother than had been the case earlier.  The love yes, but there was some resentment as well.  David didn’t try to analyze it.  What was happening felt right, and he went with the feeling, throwing himself into the scene.  

Peter was happy, and after only seven takes, let them go early.  

David realized he was exhausted as he went back to his trailer.  Before removing his costume, he collapsed on the hard couch to rest.  Eyes closed, he just sat and breathed for a while.  This week had been hard, but Sean would be leaving soon he told himself.  Things would be simpler.  He hoped.   

Someone knocked on the door, and he groaned, but got up and answered it.  Sean, out of costume and makeup, dressed in jeans and a blue shirt, was standing outside.  He looked as fresh and energetic as he had this morning, and David decided he hated him.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

David stood back and waved him in, then stood with his back to the door, not feeling particularly welcoming.

Sean bounced past him, looking around.  “Things went better this afternoon, didn’t they?”

“I guess so.”

“So, what are you doing tonight?  Up for dinner?”

“No thanks,” David said firmly.

Sean turned to look at him, grinning.  “No?  Viggo’s coming.  Just us three.”

“No.”

Sean stood a moment, just looking at him, green eyes shining, then moved forward.  Before David could say or do anything, Sean had him backed up against the door, just as he’d had him against the pillar earlier, and was kissing him.

David shoved Sean away.  “Keep your goddamn hands to yourself,” he said, surprising himself at the volume he achieved.

“Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying it.”

“My enjoyment doesn’t mean I can’t say no.”  David glared at Sean.  

Sean leaned against the opposite wall, imitating David’s body language, crossing his arms and frowning.  “And don’t try to tell me you and Viggo haven’t been fucking,” he said.  “I saw the way he was looking at you that first night.  I know that look, none better.”

David knew he was flushing.  “I’m not trying to tell you anything about me and Viggo,” he said.  “But it’s because of Viggo that I don’t want to go to dinner with you.”

“And with Viggo.”

“And with Viggo, if that’s even true.”

“Alas that I should be accused of lying by my own little brother,” Sean said, dropping the pose and moving a bit closer to David who tensed.  But Sean was grinning again.  “I don’t mind about you and Viggo at all, quite the opposite, though I’m a little hurt nobody is talking to me about it.  That’s why I thought dinner would be nice.  What if Viggo called?  Would you believe him?”

David hesitated.  This was complicated.  And even if Viggo called, David was pretty sure he shouldn’t go.  “I’ll talk to him,” he said, not committing himself to anything more. “If he calls.”

“Excellent!  I’ll just be off then.”  Sean moved closer before David turned and opened the door which meant that Sean was able to pat David on the rear before he went out.

David made himself NOT slam the door, then started to take off his costume.  He’d finish up here, go home, have a beer, and collapse.  He was sure Viggo would not call.  Which meant he was through having to deal with Sean.  And Sean would be leaving in a couple of days.  Although that thought left David wondering how Viggo would deal with Sean leaving.  Again.

* * * * * * *

David was halfway through his beer when the phone rang.  He answered on the third ring.  It was Viggo.  From the background noise, David figured he was in the pub.

“Sean says you wouldn’t go to dinner unless I called.”

David had been sure Sean was lying or at the least would let it drop.  “Well, yeah, but—“

“Come to dinner with us.”  Viggo sounded cheerful

In the pause before he answered, David heard Sean’s voice and Viggo replying although the words were muffled.

“Viggo.  Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Do I want Sean and you?  Yes.”  Viggo’s voice purred down the telephone line into his ear, pure sex.  David wondered how he could make innocuous words sound that indecent.  His breath quickened.

“Just dinner tonight, love.  But Sean has an idea he wants to..”  a scuffling noise, then David heard Sean’s voice, closer and clearer.

“Don’t tell him, you bastard!”  

David figured that was for Viggo.

“So, are you coming?” Sean said.

“I’m not even breathing hard,” David said, mentally crossing his fingers.  Over Sean’s bright laughter, he continued.  “Yes, okay.  Where and when?”

* * * * * * *

Mindful of his early call the next morning and the complexity of this invitation, David had stuck to water during dinner.  The meal had been fantastic, a restaurant that was new to him, and the conversation even more so.  

A great deal of it had been Viggo and Sean trying to top each other’s stories about the earlier days of the filming.  David hadn’t realized just how short a notice Viggo had had before taking the part although he’d heard something about problems in the casting.  And he certainly hadn’t known about Sean climbing a mountain rather than riding in a helicopter.  And their description of Sean’s death scene which had been filmed before and after lunch, and what that felt like, was fascinating.  David hadn’t had to talk much which suited him just fine under the circumstances.

But now a silence had fallen.  Sean insisted on paying the bill and had gone off to the desk where he was flirting with the cashier.

David looked up to find Viggo’s eyes on him and recognized what Sean had called “that look.”  It was the same look he’d seen in the trailer when Viggo had talked about photographing him in Ithilien.  It was not a look David had expected to see while Sean was here, and maybe not after Sean left.  

David felt himself hardening and shifted in his chair, eliciting the grin from Viggo that said he knew exactly what was happening.  At that moment, Sean returned, dropping into his chair and depositing a handful of mints on the table.

“It’s late, and I have a 6:00 am call tomorrow,” David started, only to be interrupted.

“Me, too,” Sean said, unwrapping two mints and eating them.  “But I have this great idea.”

David sighed and sat back in his chair, conscious that Viggo’s eyes were still on him.  “What is it?”

“I’m flying out Saturday, not too early, but it’s still a pain to crawl out of a nice warm bed and drive.  So I’ve rented a hotel room near the airport, and I thought the three of us could drive down tomorrow night, turn in early, and have a grand old night to see me off!”  Sean grinned at David, who felt as if the room’s temperature had just gone up, and said, “Not that I’m planning to sleep!  Except on the plane.”

David looked at Viggo who was reclining at his ease, his sword propped against the table next to him.  This was crazy, wasn’t it?  Viggo looked back at him, silent, intent on his response.

“You want to do this,” David said to Viggo.  It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”  

* * * * * * *

David followed Sean and Viggo into the hotel room. Sean was the only one with baggage.  David had stuffed clean underwear and his toothbrush in his coat pocket.   The room was large and pleasantly anonymous.  

David tossed his coat over one of the chairs and watched Sean investigate the closet, tossing the extra pillows on the large bed, then the bar.  

“It’s your last night, Sean,” Viggo said.  “What do you want?”

Sean looked at him, and smiled.  “Anything?”

“Well, I can’t speak for David,” Viggo said, smiling back.  “And you know where I draw the line.”

Sean’s arm went around David and pulled him close.  “What do you say, little brother?  Anything I want?”

“I’ll let you know when you cross the line, ‘brother,’” David said.  “Of course that line might be in a different place if we weren’t brothers.”

Sean released him, shaking his head.  “Ah, well, just between friends then.  I’ve been thinking about this all week.  Where to begin, where to begin...”

He stepped back, elbow cradled in his other hand, fingers tapping his chin.

“David, would you like to undress Viggo?”

Oh, yes.  David crossed to where Viggo was standing, knelt to start with his sneakers.  Untied them, pulled them off one at a time, then stayed on his knees to unbutton and unzip his jeans and pull them down.  Sliding the jeans down and pulling them over his feet took care of his socks as well.  David trailed his hands up Viggo’s legs and hips, teasingly far from his erection, then slid them under his shirt as he rose.  His hands shook slightly as he worked the buttons loose and slid Viggo’s shirt off.  

As the shirt fell, Viggo grabbed his arms and pulled him in close for a kiss, deep and soft and warm.

Sean’s voice caressed them.  “Very nice.  Viggo, can you undress David now?”

It was David’s turn to stand as Viggo slowly eased his clothes off, starting with his shirt, caressing him at each opportunity, hands lightly trailing across his nipples, down across his belly, hips and rear, teasing him in return.

“And you can both undress me,” Sean held out his arms invitingly.

David let Viggo undo Sean’s pants.  After Sean’s shirt came off, he pulled David close for a kiss.  Willingly this time, David opened his mouth, arms around Sean, reveling in the warmth of hi skin and the energy transmitted through lips and tongue.  Sean pulled back, still holding David, and tugged Viggo up for a kiss.  

David swallowed hard.  Sean was slightly larger than Viggo, with gold hair glinting all over his body, but his earlier sense of the similarities between the two was confirmed.  The kiss seemed the first familiar step in a contest that both knew would lead to victory.

His arms around them both, Sean continued.  “Viggo, you sit on the bed and spread your legs.”  

Viggo moved quickly to the bed, but as he leaned back against the headboard, he winced.  “If I’m going to be here long, I want some extra padding.  This is hard.”

“Complain, complain, complain.  OK, David, do you want to give Viggo a pillow for his back, FIRST.  Then, if he can shut up long enough to enjoy it, do you want to suck him?”

David nodded.  He pushed a pillow behind Viggo’s back, then crawled between his legs, lying flat.  One arm circling Viggo’s hips, he lowered his head and began slowly licking, then sucking.  Eyes closed, he savored the soft salty warmth, nuzzling down and feeling the crispness of his hair against his face.  Viggo’s hands gently caressed his head.  

Dimly aware of movement, the mattress tilting, David felt warm hands moving up his legs, Sean’s weight coming down on him.

“Dimples!”  Sean’s voice was close, delighted, and David jumped as first fingers, then Sean’s warm tongue swirled around on his lower back.     

David shuddered and nearly lost his concentration as Sean’s tongue dipped lower, running down his cleft.  Viggo’s hands tightened, and David began sucking again.  It became almost a contest, Sean working against the rhythm David was seeking, Sean’s licks and nibbles, interspersed with darting thrusts of his tongue, distracting David.  

Viggo gasped, “Stop..a minute..”  

David released him, laying his head on Viggo’s thigh.  

“Very well, next attraction,” Sean said, sliding his lubed finger into David, slowly moving in and out.  Then two fingers.  

David arched back, but Sean was over him, pulling his hips up and pressing his shoulders down.  David was kneeling between Viggo’s legs, Viggo’s hands warm, sliding to his shoulders, with David’s arm still around his hips.

Sean pushed David’s legs a bit apart, then thrust inside.  David gasped as he was pushed forward on the slick bedspread, but Viggo’s hands steadied him.  David relaxed, trusting in Viggo’s strength.  Sean’s hand slid under to grip David’s erection firmly, and he continued, rapidly moving in and out.  Too soon, David felt him convulse, felt the heat within.  

David, sweating and shaking, had not been able to come, and moaned in protest as Sean withdrew.

“I left him for you to finish, love,” Sean said, over his head.

Viggo shifted David, pushing him flat, holding his hands over his head, moving to lie over him.  Pushing David’s legs apart, Viggo held him down.  David pushed against Viggo’s firm hold, excited by his inability to move.  Viggo’s mouth came down on his shoulder on, as far as David could tell, the same place as before, sucking, marking him.  Then Viggo thrust into him with one easy movement, in and out, harder than Sean had, giving David what he needed to ride higher and higher, until he exploded, crying out.

Floating, warm and relaxed, David was vaguely aware of Viggo and Sean lying on either side of him.  He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been all week until the tension was gone.  He rested his head on his folded arms, eyes closed, aware of Viggo’s hand, large and warm, centered on his back, an anchor.  

The mattress tilted on Sean’s side, and David could hear him walking, glasses clinking. David turned his head to see Sean offer Viggo a full glass, then David.  David  shook his head.  He did not want to move, did not need a drink.  Sean drained the glass himself, then lay back down on the bed.  David closed his eyes and drifted, content.

* * * * * * *

“A second round, gents?”  Sean’s voice was lazy.  

“What did you have in mind?”  

“I could fuck David,” Sean’s hand slid up David’s thigh, “and you could fuck me.  On top of us both of us.”

David turned his head to look at Sean.  “No way in hell.  You guys weigh a ton.”

His hand stroking David’s back, Viggo said, “A rather rude response don’t you think, Sean?”

“Maybe,” Sean said.  “If he didn’t have such a sweet ass.”   A pause as Sean’s hand caressed David’s rear.  “Though it might be fun to sling his ass from the ceiling for a day, see if that would change his attitude.”  

David stiffened under Sean and Viggo’s hands, hardening at the thought.

Sean’s hand halted, and he scooted closer, sliding one of his legs over David’s, one arm over David’s back, head resting on his other arm, looking directly into David’s eyes.  

His voice just above a whisper, smooth as honey, Sean spoke.  “Do you like that idea?  At home I have a specially designed sling, with leather cuffs.  I could have you hanging, immobile, spread open, available to anyone who walked into the room.  And I’d have the key to the room.”  

David shut his eyes, breath catching in his throat and trembling, as he felt himself respond to Sean’s description.  When Sean plunged three fingers into him, he cried out, but found himself thrusting back.   

Sean’s tone changed.  “You do like the idea.”  A dark note threaded through his light tone.  “Have you been playing games with him, Viggo?”  

“No,” Viggo said.  “If I won’t with you, I wouldn’t with anyone.”

“That’s good.  Because THAT would upset me.”  

Fingers twisting inside David, he continued.  “But I’d wager you do like playing games.  I wish I’d brought some of my toys, but who’d have thought.....If not Viggo, then who?”

David never liked talking about his relationships with other people, and he hesitated.  

Sean pulled his fingers out, pushed David over on his side, curling up around him, holding him tightly.  David could feel his back pressed against Viggo’s body, Sean’s warm bulk in front.

Sean’s mouth took his, hands moving down to hold him, gently at first, but with increasing pressure.  David tried to shift back and away, but could not because of Viggo.  Sean released his mouth to bite him gently on his earlobe.

“Tell me who...” Sean’s breath was warm, tickling, in David’s ear.

What the hell, David thought.  “Andy.  Once.”  Viggo must know anyway.  But he would not mention Elijah, David decided.

The pressure decreased.  

“Andy?” Viggo said. As Viggo spoke, David heard his tone shift, felt increasing tension in his body, realized that maybe Andy did not tell Viggo everything.  

Sean chuckled.  “So you didn’t tell the King of Men about your little escapade, eh?  Who dommed?”  The pressure started increasing again, slowly.

David felt Viggo’s erection against his thigh and Viggo’s arm sliding around his chest, grinned at Sean, shook his head.  

Sean sighed.  “The problem is that Viggo won’t play if I’m domming, and I won’t play if he is.”

“That’s not what I said,” Viggo said.  “I said I wouldn’t play, period.”

“Maybe it’s not what you said, but it’s what you meant.  Quiet, we’ll discuss you later.”  

Sean released David, but kept staring into his eyes.  “Right now I’m really wondering what games you like to play.  Because the more I see, the more I suspect you don’t have to dom or at least not all the time. And that would be very very nice.  And if so, I’m thinking of a little vacation at my house—surely you’ll be in England for the premiere.  I have a spare room, lots of room to play.  Would you like to visit?”

David said, “Not without Viggo.”

Sean released him, rolled over, flinging his arm across his eyes.  “You’ve gotten to him!  How the hell do you do that!”

Viggo pulled David over, smiling, and kissed him.  David’s arm slid around Viggo, holding him close during the kiss.

But after, he said, “Who else have you gotten to?”

Viggo shook his head, said nothing.

Sean said, “Orli and Andy.  At least.”

“Nobody’s gotten to Andy,” Viggo said.  “As David just proved.”  

He looked at David, and said, “You never asked me about playing games.  Why?”

“I don’t really know.”  David thought a moment.  Elijah had suggested it to David, and he’d gone along, enjoying it though he was usually playing dominant.  Then his experience with Andy had pushed him past some boundary he hadn’t realized existed.  He’d felt he was exploring a new country.

But he had never thought about suggesting it to Viggo.  

Sean rolled over and slid down to lie at David’s side.  “I’d like to know why too.  And where and when and what and how and...after all, I have a responsibility to look out for my little brother.”

Which sounded noble as hell, David thought, if you ignored what his hand was doing as he spoke.

“Sean, I don’t understand what this ‘brother’ bit’s doing for you, but it does nothing for me.  Can you drop it?” David said.  “And the only other thing I’ll say is it was the night you arrived.”

“Aha,” Sean said, dropping a kiss on David’s neck.  “I knew you were horny as hell that night.”

Looking at Viggo, David tried to answer his question.  “I never thought about it when I was with you, I guess.”  

In an uncomfortable flash, he realized that maybe it was because Viggo had so internalized his power that he didn’t need the props other used.  David didn’t think he wanted to say that out loud, especially in front of Sean.

“Had you done it before, before Andy?”

“Yes.”

Sean leaned up and over David slightly, poking Viggo’s shoulder.  “I’ve told you before that you should try it before judging.  Here you are in bed with two gorgeous and brilliant men who like bondage games, and you’d turn us down?  How insane is that?”

Viggo shook his head, the faint frown David had seen before marking his forehead.  Sean, obviously familiar with it as well, sighed loudly, and looked back down at David.

“What’s your first rule?” he asked.

“No bloodwork, no intentional wounding,” David said immediately.

“Any others?”

“I won’t do cuffs, only ropes, and only knots I know how to release.  And we agree on a word that means ‘stop’ which is always honored.”

Sean’s fingers trailed down David’s chest and stomach, slowly, teasingly circling lower, resting tantalizingly close to his growing erection.  “Well, we might need to discuss the ropes vs. cuffs thing if you visit, but there’s always room for negotiation between gentlemen.”  

David tensed under his hand.

“It’s like your bloody poetry, Viggo,” Sean returned to the argument.  “What was it you were telling me that day at the lake?  Something about a constant tension between form and meaning, even if you create the form, you’re always working to transcend its constraints?”

“I’m flattered you remember what I said so exactly,” Viggo’s voice was dry, but David could still feel his erection, and a shiver of muscles against his skin.

“Your pleasure is in working against the constraints, right?  And what David and I are talking about is like that.  Both agree, both choose, and it’s as much about trust as it is about power.  It’s not like it’s some totally perverted thing, hell, some people’d think what we just did was perverted!  It’s on a spectrum, and even if you don’t want to admit it, you’re already on that spectrum.  David...”

“What?”  David had been fascinated by Sean’s argument, expressing ideas he’d never thought about.

“When you were with Viggo, were you ever on top?”  Sean was speaking to David, but staring directly at Viggo over David.

David looked at Viggo, flushing, unwilling to answer.  He hadn’t realized the pattern until Sean’s question made him think.  

“I thought not,” Sean said.  He looked down at David, then, grinning.  “You might want to try it sometime—it’s hard work but well worth it!”

David opened his mouth to protest, then shrugged.  He could see Viggo was turning red as well.

“So, are you willing to try it,” Sean challenged Viggo.  “I could run something here and now that would involve hardly anything more than we’ve already done but that would show you the possibilities.”

Viggo looked at David.  “David.  Do you want to do this?”

David looked at Sean.  “With my rules?”  

“Sure—not even any ropes.”

“Then, yes.”  

“What’s your word?”

David thought a moment, then, “Tequila.”

Viggo laughed.  Sean raised an eyebrow at him, but just said, “I want to hear the story behind that one someday.  So, Viggo, what do you say?”

“All right.”

Sean pushed himself up and sat cross-legged on the bed, silent a moment.  David lay still, feeling a tingling starting low in his belly, his breath quickening.

“All right.  Shift this way a little,” Sean positioned David so he was lying diagonally across the bed, arms extended above his head.  “Viggo, all I want you to do is hold his arms down, which you were doing earlier I noticed, and when I say so, kiss him.  But if he says ‘tequila,’ you immediately release him, got that?”

Viggo nodded, rolled over to lie beside David, positioning himself so he could hold one of David’s arms in each of his hands.

“You’d better make sure you can kiss him from that angle,” Sean said.

Viggo proved he could.

Sean arranged himself across David’s thighs.  

“I was right, you do weigh a ton,” David said, trying to move.  He could arch his back, but that was about all.  If this went on too long, his legs would go to sleep.

Sean tweaked him, and David jumped.  

“Viggo, if he tries to talk, kiss him.  You’re the gag, so to speak! I do wish I’d thought to pack a few things, but one can always improvise.”

Sean wrapped his fingers around David’s erection and began rubbing.  When David arched his back, Sean was able to slip his hand under his rear and push one finger inside, circling.  As he did, he stopped rubbing, his hand sliding down to hold David firmly.  

David strained against Viggo’s hands, against Sean’s weight.  In some ways, this was better than the ropes, the warm flesh holding him down and exciting him at the same time.  Sean’s movements were gentle, insistent, pushing him toward coming but not letting him come.  David squirmed, trying to force more from Sean, shutting his eyes to focus on the feeling building inside.

Sean stopped.  “Open your eyes, David.  I want you looking at Viggo.  I want him to see your face.”

David opened his eyes, stared up into the blue eyes, and was rewarded by another finger.

Drowning in blue and in sensations, David lost all sense of time.  As Sean worked his fingers inside David, finally, he tried to speak.  “Please—“ but Viggo’s warm mouth came down on his immediately.  Unable to speak, David moaned into Viggo’s mouth.

Sean moved then, pulling out, lifting his weight off David’s thighs.  Sean pushed David’s legs apart and climbed between them.  Then Sean lifted his legs up, David moving willingly, bending his knees.  In a moment, Sean had thrust inside him, but did not move.

Frustrated, David tried to move against him, but Sean’s hands held his hips still.

“Viggo, stop a minute.”

David could hear Viggo’s breathing, harsh and fast, as he pulled away.

“David, look at me now.”

With difficulty, David focused his eyes on Sean.  

“Tell me.  Who was dominant.  Andy or you.”  Sean’s green eyes bored into him, and he moved gently, once.

“Sean,” Viggo said.

“Viggo.  Quiet.  David?  I’m waiting.”

His whole body clenched, tight and aching, David let his head fall back, eyes closing.  “Andy,” he said. “I asked him.”

“Good boy,” Sean breathed, thrusting hard and fast, one hand wrapping around David and rubbing him, Sean’s other arm holding him down.  David strained against Viggo’s hands, Sean’s arm, pushing, crying out as he came harder and longer than he ever remembered.   A few moments later, he felt Sean come, then collapse on him.

When David’s breath returned to something near normal, he realized Viggo had released him, was lying on his side, watching them.  

David shifted, pushed Sean’s shoulder.  “You do weigh a ton,” he said.  “Shove over, will you.”  

Sean levered himself up on his arms, patted David’s chest, and said, “That was bloody brilliant,” then rolled off David to sit next to him, on the same side of the bed as Viggo, facing him.

“What did you think, Viggo?” Sean’s voice was challenging.

“I think you forgot there are three of us here,” Viggo said, rising to his knees to launch himself at Sean, toppling him over.

David rolled away to sit at the foot of the bed, avoiding the tangle of thrashing limbs, as Viggo and Sean wrestled.  Viggo had the advantage of surprise, and Sean, a bit, of weight, but David thought this was a familiar ritual.  Within a few minutes, Viggo had Sean pinned beneath him.  

“Fuck, Viggo, use some lube,” Sean said.

“All right.  David, would you get the lube—it’s on the nightstand.”

David nodded, and reached for it.  Sean was bucking, trying to throw Viggo off.

“Would you be so kind,” Viggo asked.

“Sure.”  David crawled up next to them, warmed the lubricant in his hands, and first rubbed it on Viggo, then slid a couple of fingers into Sean.  

At Viggo’s nod, he pulled out, returned to sit at the foot of the bed to watch.  Viggo and Sean were incredibly hot together, even more than he’d fantasized during all those lonely nights last week, athletic, powerful, and focused.

After Viggo rolled off him, Sean punched his shoulder.  “If you come for that visit, we’re going to have to discuss a few things first. Set some ground rules.”

“As you said, Sean,” Viggo replied, “there’s always room for gentlemen to negotiate!”

And then despite Sean’s promise of not sleeping, they did for a few hours.  David found himself tucked in the middle of the large bed between two warm bodies which, he thought, was just about perfect.

  
CHAPTER 13: THE CAMPING TRIP

In the morning, Sean flew back to England and Viggo and David went back to the film.  David shifted in his seat, trying to find a position that was more comfortable.  He finally lowered the seat back which let him recline more than sit upright.  Watching Viggo’s hands on the steering wheel, he was starting to doze off when Viggo spoke.

“When we get back, we need to talk about Andy,” Viggo said.  “Or maybe with Andy.”

“Fine with me,” David said.  “If we can then talk about the issue of always being on top!”

Viggo didn’t reply, and David wiggled around a bit more and fell asleep.

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking his shoulder.  

“Mrmphl,” David said, trying to snuggle back down into his pillow.

“David.  We’re back.  Wake up.”

David rubbed his eyes and yawned.  He wasn’t in his bed, but in Viggo’s car.  

“Oh.  All right.”

Viggo laughed, hand still on his shoulder.  “I think you’d better go sleep for a while.  We’ll talk later.”

David thought that sounded like a good idea.  “OK,” he managed, then got himself out of the car and up the stairs.  Inside, he dropped his coat on the floor, shed his clothes as he went down the hall, and fell into bed.  If this was what spending one night with Sean and Viggo did to him, maybe he should rethink the idea of a whole week with them!

* * * * * * *

David threw himself into work during the next week with some relief.  His lines were written for him, everything was laid out, and he wasn’t having to make it up as he went along.  It made for a nice break from some parts of his life.  

He saw Viggo once or twice on the set or at meals, but always with other people around.  They had no chance to talk privately.  Andy was doing some work on location with Elijah and Sean, and David realized that meant one more complicated conversation could be avoided for a while.  

The week’s work went well, with much less tension than the previous one.  But, as all weeks do, it came to an end.

Viggo caught him as he returned to his trailer late Friday.

“I’m going to go camping in Kaitoke this weekend, do some fishing.  Would you like to come?”

David thought about vague plans he and Elijah had made to get together but realized that he’d rather be with Viggo.

“Sure.  What do I need to bring?”

“I have all the gear, and we can pick up food on the way.  Dress in layers.  Do you have hiking boots?”

“Yeah.”

“All right.  Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, about  6:00?”

David grimaced.  He was not a morning person. “OK.”

* * * * * * *

Enjoying the sunrise the next morning, David decided being up so early on a weekend wasn’t that terrible.  Then, after they’d hiked for a couple of hours, he began enjoying himself.  The day was beautiful.  The scenery, although they were far beyond the location chosen for Rivendell, was just as beautiful, if not more so.  David was beginning to wonder if New Zealand had any areas that were not outstandingly, dramatically, gorgeous.  

Viggo set a good pace, all that day, wanting to be far away from other people.  They reached his planned destination in late afternoon.  Unpacking, David was impressed by the simplicity of the gear. Food and water, of course, they’d bought on the way up, a large double sleeping bag, basic toilet items, a portable stove and lantern, and, finally, a small bundle which Viggo told him was a tent.

“I only use it if it rains,” Viggo said.  “Just set it here near the sleeping bag, untied.  If we need it, I can set it up in about 10 minutes.”  

David untied it, finding inside the tent, rope ties, and a half-dozen metal stakes, long “u” shapes that rattled as he set it down.  

And of course fishing gear.  Viggo assembled two rods, but David shook his head.  “No, thanks,” he said.  

“No?  You sure?”

“I’m sure.  My father used to drag us all fishing, but I never liked it.  I have a book, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just settle down and read.  You can fish all you like.”

They walked down to the small lake, and David found a comfortable spot under a tree.  He could read and watch Viggo at the same time.

Viggo dug into his bait tin for a worm.  “What are you reading?” he asked.

“&lt;i&gt;The Silmarillion.&lt;/i&gt;  Christopher recommended it. I can’t believe he’s read &lt;i&gt;Lord of the Rings&lt;/i&gt; every year since it came out and then got cast as Saruman.”

“He’s amazing, isn’t he?” Viggo said, casting his line out.  “I sneak over sometimes just to watch him on set.”

David agreed, then settled back to read in silence.  As he remembered, people who were fishing did not want conversation.  

Viggo fished for an hour or so, catching several, which they took back to cook for dinner.  David was quite happy to eat fish as long as he didn’t have to catch them.  Or clean them, he pointed out to Viggo.  

After cleaning up, they sat for a while.  David watched the sky darken, the first stars appear, and told Viggo about the creation of the Elves who first lived under starlight.

“Apparently there’s a whole backstory here to the story of Aragorn and Arwen,” David said.  “Beren and Luthien were part of it, but there’s even more.  Not terribly happy, of course.”

“Little in Tolkien is,” Viggo said.  “I haven’t had a chance to read &lt;i&gt;The Silmarillion&lt;/i&gt;, but Peter filled me in on some of it.”  Viggo yawned and stretched.  “We’d probably better get to bed.  I’ll be getting up at dawn for more fishing...”

David shuddered as he stood up and began undressing.  “Enjoy yourself!  You can wake me up when you finish,” he said, folding his clothes together and shoving them under the sleeping bag to keep dry overnight.  He climbed in, and watched Viggo, a shadow in the starlight, do the same.     
   
* * * * * *

Lying naked beside Viggo, watching the stars overhead, David thought it was all very romantic  
But nothing seemed to be happening.  

David rose on one elbow, leaned over to kiss Viggo.  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know.  Maybe.”  

David remembered last weekend, with Sean, and what Viggo had said as they started back.  They’d never talked about Andy, or about anything that had happened.  Maybe they needed to.

“What?”

“I still want to know why you never asked me about games, but did Andy.”

“I told you, I never even thought about it when I was with you.  You can’t make this mean more than it does.  It’s like,” David searched for words, “well, eating.  I don’t want to eat the same thing every meal.  And I didn’t ask Andy.  He asked me.”

David hesitated, then forced himself to go on, in spite of his reluctance to talk about other people.  “I don’t know if Andy told you about me and Elijah?”

“No.”  Viggo shifted, turning his head toward David for the first time.  David’s eyes were adjusting to the faint gleam of starlight, and he felt better looking directly at Viggo.  

“Well, Elijah and I’ve done some stuff, and Elijah told Orli.  And swore him to secrecy.” David added in a sour tone.

Viggo laughed.  “Sure.  Which guaranteed Orli’d tell half a dozen people!”

“Probably.  He told Andy for sure.  And Andy asked me—and, eventually, I said yes.  Once.  The night Sean arrived.”  David was working hard at not thinking about that night in too much detail right now.  

“I don’t want to tell Sean about Elijah.  We don’t do it every time, you know.  That would probably get bloody boring.”  David laid his hand on Viggo’s chest, feeling the warm hardness of muscles beneath the soft skin, the rise and fall of even breaths.  “It doesn’t matter if you didn’t like it.”  He tried to think of some way to reassure Viggo, but it was hard just to get his mind around the idea that Viggo might need reassurance.  

They were silent in the starlight though David could hear a bird in the distance.  Its call sounded like a question.  David wondered if any other call would answer it.

Viggo spoke in a low voice.  “Sean asked me what I thought, that night, but I didn’t answer him.  I couldn’t, not then.”  

Viggo’s arm slid around David’s waist, pulling him down against Viggo’s chest.  Warm and strong, Viggo’s other hand wrapped around David’s upper arm, holding him tightly.  Smooth and low, his voice stroked down David’s nerves.  “Holding you down, watching your face, was...incredible.  I wanted to do what Sean was doing, I wanted to tie you down and fuck you for hours.”

Viggo rarely used such language, making what he said all the more exciting. David reacted immediately, flashing to heat and hardness, throwing one leg across Viggo, arching his hips forward to rub against his body, dropping his head onto Viggo’s shoulder, curling into him.

“You can,” he breathed.  “Tomorrow.  Whenever you want.”  

Viggo’s body was tense under David’s, holding him tight but not moving except for the rise and fall of his chest. “But how would that be different from what happened the last time we were in the woods,” he asked, voice low and harsh.

David felt a chill threading its way down his back.  There seemed to be all the difference in the world to him, but he wasn’t sure he could explain it to Viggo.  Damn.

“It’s like what Sean said,” he started slowly.  “Choice.  If we go back to my place, and we’d both agreed, and I get the ropes out, and....”  David realized something.  “Would I have to show you how to tie breakaway knots?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought so.  All right, so I have to teach you the knots, first, and then we...It’s wouldn’t be anything like what happened before.” David paused, frustrated.  “Sean could probably explain it better.”

“Sean has a good explanation for everything,” Viggo said, “but he never convinced me—“

“Look, Viggo,” David interrupted.  “I went out that day with you expecting more than nature shots.  When I lay down, it was mostly to get you out from behind the camera.  What happened next wasn’t what I expected or chose.  But it wasn’t what you do either.  You lost control.  Once.  Under fairly unique circumstances.  Unless you know something I don’t, let’s not generalize from that one time.”

David paused, trying to organize his thoughts.  “I wouldn’t have spent hours hiking up here to spend the night with you alone in the woods, hell, I wouldn’t even have gone to Sean’s hotel room with you if I thought that would happen again.”

Viggo was silent.

David figured he might as well finish even if it got him thrown out of the sleeping bag.  “If it does happen again, that’d be the end.  But I don’t think it will.  And I don’t think it will even if you decide to play bondage games.  Which is still completely up to you.  You can choose, or choose not to.”

“I want to,” Viggo said.  “I never would’ve thought I’d say that. But—“

David was happy to hear Viggo say it, then remembered something Sean’d said.  “Shit.”

“What?”

“Didn’t Sean say he’d be upset if we were playing games?”

“I think he meant he’d be upset if we’d been playing games after I wouldn’t play with him,” Viggo said, sounding amused.  “Although he might also be upset if we started playing games and didn’t go stay with him in England so he could play.”

David relaxed, shaking his head.  “OK.  But I interrupted you—what were you going to say?”

A pause.  Then, “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”  David waited.  “You said you ‘wanted to, but.’  But what?”

Viggo pushed him gently away, turned on his side away from David.  “Nothing important.  We should probably go to sleep.  Dawn comes early.”

David couldn’t believe it.  “You can’t just roll over and go to sleep,” he said.

When Viggo did not answer, David scooted up close behind Viggo, draped an arm over his side, and kissed his neck.  “Who’s kidding who,” David mumbled against Viggo’s neck.  He trailed a row of kisses down Viggo’s spine, and when there was still no response, shoved him onto his stomach and flung himself over his back.

“Sean told me I should try being on top sometime....would that reassure you,” David said into Viggo’s ear, running his hand down his rear and trying to wind his other arm around Viggo’s neck and chest.

Viggo twisted, grabbed David by the shoulders and pushed him back.  There was no room for a wrestling match in the sleeping bag, but David tried.  It became a confused tangle of legs, gripping arms, bodies twisting around each other.

David spilled out of the sleeping bag, feeling dirt grit against his bare back.  Viggo followed him, blocking every movement David made to get on top.

Viggo agile and strong, could not even be pinned.  Sliding out of David’s grasp, he twisted David’s arm behind his back, and reached into the tangle of sleeping bag and clothing.  David trying to twist away, was pulled over to lie sprawled across Viggo’s legs.  Viggo pushed David’s arms over his head, twining what David realized was a sock around his wrists, knotting it.

David was laughing so hard he could hardly talk. “You’re kidding!  A sock!”

“As Sean said, one can always improvise..”  Viggo dumped David down on the ground, planting a knee firmly in the middle of his back, then grabbed something else.  In a few moments, Viggo reached over David’s head and drove one of the metal tent ties between David’s wrists and over the twisted sock, into the ground, immobilizing David’s arms above his head.

David was still laughing.  Viggo got up and moved away.  David tugged but could not pull his wrists loose, then rolled over to try to get better leverage.  Viggo returned to find him on his back, wrestled him over to lie face down.  

Then he spread David’s legs far apart, looping a rope around each ankle, staking each one down with another metal tie driven deep into the ground.

Laughter fading, David found himself facedown on ground, hands over head, legs far apart, breathing faster as he realized where this was heading.  

Viggo knelt beside him, ran one warm hand gently down his back.  “I don’t know breakaway knots,” he said, apologetically, “but if you say ‘tequila,’ I’ll release you immediately.”

“Yes.  All right.”  David squirmed, feeling dirt and grass under him, the cool air on his back.  A sense of darkness and solitude surrounded him, exciting him even more.  

Viggo stood, moved away.  David heard rustling sounds, then felt Viggo kneeling between his legs.  He was surprised to feel a cool band across his lower back, then by Viggo leaning over to drive two more tent ties into the ground, one on either side of him.  David realized it was Viggo’s belt holding him down, limiting his movements even more.

Then, hands began to massage his back, moving down slowly, one slick finger slowly pushing into him, moving in and out, turning, infinitely small motion, repeated again and again.  David could not move except to turn his head, could not thrust back.

After an eternity, another finger pushed in, but the slow movements did not increase.  Viggo, patient, inexorable, slowly slid two fingers in and out, twisting, then repeating the motion.  David tried to control his breathing, tried to relax.  

The slow twisting built pressure inside him but only to a certain point.  Sweating, feeling his erection trapped between his belly and the hard ground, David realized this could go on quite a while and he still wouldn’t come.  Surely Viggo hadn’t really meant for hours, had he?

As the patient movements went on with three fingers, David realized he might well have.  Finally, halfway to what David figured must be sunrise, Viggo slid slowly inside him, bracing himself above David.  The only point of contact, of direct touch, was the slow movement that David recognized from before.  

Sweat slicked his skin, and he felt tremors racing up and down his body as he tried to move, tried to force more than this devastating slow gentleness from Viggo.  Dimly, he heard  himself moaning, tried to bite his lip and stop himself, but could not.  

As the stars wheeled overhead, his whole universe narrowed to a single point, to Viggo’s careful motions, slow, controlling, taking him leisurely and thoroughly, building to a the start of climax only to pause, motionless, as David fell away.  Time after time.

Panting, David pushed words out on each breath, “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease..”  

Finally, Viggo lowered himself onto David’s body, mouth hot and sucking on his shoulder, weight added to the pressure of the ties.  He did not move for a few moments, and David waited, shuddering, in torment, heart racing.

The, positioning himself carefully, Viggo slammed in, thrusting harder and deeper.  David shrieked, convulsing, feeling the warm wetness below him and inside him, crying out an answer to the silent stars overheard.

* * * * * * *      

David felt Viggo releasing him, the tugs as the tent states were pulled up, his wrists and ankles freed.  He still couldn’t believe Viggo’d used a sock.  Improvise, hell.  Then David felt Viggo beside him, hand warm on his shoulder.  

“David?  Are you all right?”  Viggo sounded a bit anxious.

David luxuriously stretched, enjoying the warm honey soaking through his body and spirit, then rolled over to face Viggo.  

“So just what the hell were you trying to say earlier?” he demanded.  “Right before you tied me down and fucked me for hours?  ‘BUT’....?”

Viggo laughed quietly, sinking into a cross-legged position.  “But I was afraid of losing control,” he said.

“I do not think that word means what you think it means!” David intoned.  “I do not think that is your problem.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Viggo promised, standing.  “Bed?”

David staggered to his feet, gratefully accepted Viggo’s hand, and looked around for the sleeping bag.  There it was.  

“I’ll pay for cleaning it,” he said, heading toward it.  “Because I don’t think I can stay awake long enough to clean myself up.”  He climbed inside and collapsed.

Viggo climbed in after him, pulled him close for  a gentle kiss, then settled back, tugging David close to lie in a warm tangle.  Head pillowed on Viggo’s chest, David smiled.  Much better than romance, he thought, before sleep fell on him.  
   
CHAPTER 14: THESIS/ANTITHESIS/SYNTHESIS

David lay luxuriously on the grass pretending to read  &lt;i&gt;The Silmarillion&lt;/i&gt;.  He’d just rest his eyes a few moments, he assured himself, letting the book fall forward on his chest.

He’d had a rare weekday afternoon off, so after the morning’s work, he’d gone back to his place, changed to shorts, made a sack lunch and grabbed his book before walking down to a small park he’d found a few blocks away.  He’d only visited on weekends so was surprised and pleased to find it so quiet.  

He found a perfect space, a grassy spot surrounded by several large trees, with a picnic table nearby.  After eating his lunch, he’d stretched out on the grass to read, half in sun, half in the shade of a large tree.  But after reading for a couple of hours, as the afternoon grew warmer, he just had to rest his eyes.  

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”

David refused to open his eyes.  “Hello, Andy,” he said.  “Go away.”

“Sorry, don’t think so.”

David opened his eyes to see Andy and Viggo standing a few feet away.  

“Viggo wanted to talk,” Andy said, approaching David and sitting down on the grass beside him, on the right side.  

Viggo sat on the bench, to David’s left, leaning his sword against the picnic table.

David angled his arms so he could rest his head on them for better eye contact.  He was sure this was the talk he’d hoped never to have, especially after he thought he and Viggo had worked out the issue on their camping trip last weekend.  

“Okay,” he said.  “What about?”

“Although I don’t agree with him,” Andy said before Viggo could speak.  

David looked at him, surprised by the harsh tone of Andy’s voice even more than what he’d said.  David had wondered briefly how they’d found him, but Andy’s tone drove that question out of his mind.

“It’s none of your business what David and I did,” Andy said.  “Do you want to tell us what you and Sean were up to that night?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Viggo said, standing.  

David sat up, the book falling beside him.  He was confused.  Apparently the conversation he’d thought was just beginning had already become an argument.  

“Wait a minute.  Viggo, sit down.  Andy, what’s wrong?”   David said.  “I don’t know what you two’ve been talking about.  But I don’t think this is just about trading dirty stories.  What’s really going on?”

Andy looked down at the ground, pulling up several blades of grass and twisting them together without speaking.  

Viggo sat down again, but remained on the edge of the bench, poised to move quickly.  
   
“Andy,” David prompted him.  

“Look, Viggo,” Andy began.  “You always said you didn’t want anything to do with bondage which was fine with me.  But suddenly things are different, no, you’re different, now you’re acting like you’ve been betrayed, like we’ve done something wrong.  I don’t think you have the right to the moral high ground here.  You say you don’t want to get involved with dominance/ submission, but you don’t know how far along that road you already are--”

Andy touched David gently on his shoulder, stroking the fading bruise. “You mark David every time, and you think that’s not obvious?”

David knew he was turning red and avoided Viggo’s eyes.  He was remembering Sean’s question and wondering why he hadn’t seen this pattern either.  

“Every time it has to be at your place, your scenario though you don’t call it that, under your control.  You’re always on top, you’ve been acting the dominant from the start but pretending not to be.  Which was fine, I enjoyed it, but now you think you can demand to know what David and I are doing, act as if we needed your permission?  I like playing power games just fine, but I don’t like anyone trying to make it real outside the bedroom.”  Andy’s voice rose as he spoke, and his grip on David’s shoulder tightened.  

David saw that he was flushed as well, all his mocking humor gone.  

David, shocked, expecting an explosion, looked up at Viggo to see him sitting back, staring pensively at Andy, thumb rubbing his chin.

When Viggo finally spoke, he kept his eyes on Andy, his voice low, neutral, in tone.  “What do you think, David,” he said.

David swallowed with some effort.  If Viggo really wanted to know, if he wasn’t just going to get angry and walk away, or try to ignore the whole thing, then...

“I think Andy has a point,” David said quietly, staring at the ground in front of him, not looking at either of them.  “I don’t know if I’d say it the same way, but I can’t disagree with him. Although I think there’s more to be said.”

David looked up to see that Viggo was now looking at him.

“What?” Viggo said.

“We’ve talked about it before, how easy it is to mix up our characters with ourselves.  You’re playing Aragorn, the King who returns, and you carry that power with you off camera as well.  If you didn’t have that ability to project such power, you probably wouldn’t have gotten the part.  I’ve seen it in your other films as well.  And I think we’re responding to it as well.  So we’ve gone along with it.  We didn’t have to, off camera, but we have.  Andy?”  

David touched Andy’s hand.  Surprised by the anger and passion Andy’d  revealed, David thought that Andy accusing Viggo of always playing dominant was a bit of the pot calling the kettle.  But he didn’t want to say that out loud, at least not now.  

“Maybe.”  Andy released David, began twisting more grass between his hands, then sighed.  “OK, probably   Yes.  Sorry for blowing up.  I’ve had a bad couple of weeks.  Some of the location work has been murder.  Maybe I over reacted.”

“No, it’s all right,” Viggo said.  “There’s something to what you say.  It’s like what Sean has told me.  And I can see it makes sense.  Given what happened last weekend...” Viggo trailed off.

Andy tossed the grass away, looked up eagerly.  “What happened last weekend?”

“That’s none of YOUR business,” David said, shoving Andy so that he toppled, off balance, onto the grass.  

“OK,” said Andy, sitting up.  “But what about next weekend?”

“What about it?” Viggo asked.  

Andy smiled, the wicked sense of humor back in full force.

David sat quietly, wondering what would happen now.  At the start of this conversation, he’d wondered if things would all fall apart.  To have the tone shift so quickly was unsettling.

Andy said, “Too many people think in stereotypes when it comes to bondage, dominance and submission, and power issues.  I’ve played both roles, lots of people do.  You too, David?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what all leads to different choices, preferences.  Sometimes it’s my mood, sometimes it’s the partner I’m with.  But I know some people seem to want to exist only at one extreme or the other.  They get hooked on it, maybe start thinking of it as natural.  Probably everyone has a different explanation, but that’s mine.  David, do you feel powerless when you’re the sub?”

David shifted, using the movement to get some time to think.  “Not powerless,” he said.  “More the center of attention,” he said slowly, “the focus, like acting in some ways except I don’t have to work on creating the character, can simply react.”  

He thought a moment, then corrected himself.  “Although, sometimes the best acting comes like that, but mostly on stage.  It’s harder to do on the film set, too many people standing around, too many interruptions.”  

He looked at Andy, then Viggo, and shrugged.  “I’d say it’s a feeling of power, a different kind of power than when  playing dominant which is in some ways more work, demands more thought.  And since I only play with people who agree to follow my rules, well....Andy’s right, there’s all sorts of things that can go on under the same name.  I can’t speak for anyone else, and I haven’t spent a lot of time analyzing it.”  Until recently, he thought.

Andy looked a challenge at Viggo.  “Did Sean ever talk about his games like that?” he said.  

“No, but then I don’t think Sean has ever done anything but be dominant.”

“What if you did?”

“Did what?”  Viggo looked confused.

“Tried out the other side, this weekend.  Explored the boundaries of both sides of the game, the different kinds of power.  With David and me.  At his place.”

David could not believe what he heard Andy saying to Viggo.  Andy had to be joking.

But Andy didn’t look like he was joking, David realized.  And nobody was laughing.

The silence was broken by a group of teenagers running through the park, laughing and shrieking.   David was barely aware of them, though a small voice cautioned him that this conversation should probably be moved out of a public space.  

Viggo finally looked at David and Andy.  “All right,” he said.  

* * * * * * *

Andy finished tying Viggo’s ankles together, and tied the other end of the rope to the brass footboard.  

David was biting his lip, fighting off a terrible impulse to laugh, one driven entirely by nerves.  They were all naked, and it wasn’t like this was the first time.  But it was a first time.  This was all Andy’s idea, so David was letting him lead.

Shifting to sit by Viggo, Andy ran his hand down Viggo’s back.  

“You feel as tense as if you’ve been captured by orcs,” he said.  “Relax.  Remember, you can stop everything with one word.  Although I have to say that ‘tequila’ just does not mean ‘stop’ for me in any other context.”  He grinned at David.

David ignored him, sat down on the edge of the bed, laid his hand on Viggo’s back, nearly flinched at the tension.

The sight of Viggo, tied face down, was incredibly hot, but the tenseness radiating off him affected David even more.   David wondered if Viggo would be able to use the safeword or if he’d try to force himself through it no matter what.  This could all go horribly wrong.

David bit his lip, looked at Andy across Viggo’s back.  “Andy, can you wait a few minutes,” he said.  “I have an idea.”

“Sure.  Nobody’s on the clock here.”

David ducked into his bathroom and found the scented body oil he’d bought at Dom’s little shop.  Elijah liked rose scented oil, but David preferred lavender.

Returning to the bedroom, he said, “We can start with one of my soon-to-be-patented backrubs.”  He’d given Viggo several backrubs in the past which he’d enjoyed.

Andy nodded, moved back to lie down where he could watch.

Sitting beside Viggo, David poured the clean smelling oil in his hands, rubbed them together, and then started with Viggo’s shoulders.  He began lightly, covering as much of his shoulders and back as possible, to find the spots where Viggo was most tense.  Then, shifting his weight, David increased the pressure on those spots, probing with thumbs and fingers, massaging away the knots.  As he worked, David could feel Viggo’s breathing slow, become deeper.

Up and down his spine, in smaller circles, to work outward.  Then down to Viggo’s lower back, less pressure here.  Nothing too low, nothing that would seem sexually charged, at least not yet.  

David could see that Viggo had turned his head, his eyes shut, and his arms seemed more relaxed.  Running his hands over his back, David could feel the difference.  Moving down on the bed, David poured more oil, and worked his way down each of Viggo’s legs, ending with a foot rub.

“Holy shit, I never knew.  I’m jealous,” Andy said.  “I want one!”

David looked at him.  “NOW?” he asked.

“Well, no, but soon.  Please?”

“All right.”  David leaned forward, hands on Viggo’s back.  “Is that better?”

“Ummm-hmmm.” Viggo sounded content, a little drowsy.

“Andy?”  David backed away as Andy moved, straddling Viggo’s legs.  

Taking his cue from David, Andy began rubbing Viggo’s back, but soon worked lower, hands slick with the oil.  Running his hands along Viggo’s rear, he slid one finger in.

Sitting back against the footboard, David watched as Andy gently teased Viggo, moving slowly, sliding a hand under his body.  Soon, Viggo was moving in response, thrusting back, tossing his head.

David had seen that Andy had left some slack in the ropes, and his gentleness now reassured David that Andy not going to push Viggo too fast, too far, at the start.

Now Andy moved, sliding inside, startling a moan from Viggo.  Even now, Andy was bracing himself on legs and one arm, not lying with his full weight on Viggo, straddling him.  David hardened as he watched Andy wrap himself around Viggo, skin glistening, dark hair contrasting to Viggo’s reddish-blond, movements increasing.  He could hear them panting, see Viggo thrusting back.  

Suddenly, Andy tossed his head back, shuddering, then fell forward onto Viggo.  A few moments later, Andy withdrew, to lie beside Viggo, chest heaving.

Then, sliding his hand under Viggo, Andy said.  “He hasn’t come yet.  David?”

David nodded, slid up the bed.  Maybe Andy meant him to top Viggo, but David had another idea.

Sliding his hands under Viggo, he turned him onto his back, leaned in a moment for a kiss.  The kiss was gentle, almost tentative at first, but then Viggo’s tongue slid into his mouth, and David could feel his body straining, pulling against the ropes, pushing against David’s, eager and demanding.

David began to kiss his way down Viggo’s body, lingering at the base of his neck, sparing a moment to nip the same place where Viggo always marked him, then gliding down to nipples.

His hands moved before his mouth, trailing down to circle Viggo’s belly button, stroke his belly, enjoying the tremors he could feel deep inside.  David’s mouth followed, until at last he was sucking, pulling Viggo into his mouth as deeply as he could.  Viggo gasped, pumped his hips.  

After a few moments, David released him, enjoying Viggo’s moan of protest.  

David moved to straddle Viggo carefully.  He reached behind, holding Viggo firmly, positioning himself against Viggo’s erection, and began to work to sink slowly down.  
   
Viggo’s eyes flew open, and he thrust up as David began rocking, faster and deeper.  David locked eyes with Viggo, drowning in those blue eyes as he had when Viggo held him down, moving faster, matching Viggo’s rhythm, pushing beyond it.  

David cried out as Andy moved, rolling over, to first hold, then suck, David, the warm mouth and the fast heat of Viggo’s coming pushing David into climax.

Panting, sweat slicking his skin, David leaned forward slowly, giving Andy time to move, subsiding onto Viggo’s chest.  Reaching up, David laid his hand against Viggo’s cheek and relaxed.

* * * * * * *

Andy freed Viggo’s arms and legs, then lay on his side.  David smiled at him, then rolled off Viggo, who stretched, then wrapped an arm around David.

“Well?” Andy said.

“Well, what?”

“Well, what do you think?”

A very long moment passed while David held his breath.

Then Viggo laughed.  “I think....I’m going to have to think about some things.  And I think...I would prefer Sean not learn about this.”

Andy smiled at David. “My price for silence is a weekly backrub for the rest of the time we’re here,” he said.  “I assume you can deliver?”

David leaned over Viggo and extended his hand.  “It’s a deal,” he said, shaking Andy’s hand.

As Andy made the first move to leave the bed, David leaned over a bit further, clasping his wrist.

When Andy looked back at him, David said, “Stay the night, and you can have your first one tomorrow morning.”

Andy shook his head.  

Viggo reached out his hand but did not touch Andy’s arm.  “Please?” he said.

Andy was still a moment, then said “Are you sure?”

David and Viggo nodded.  

Andy fell back on the bed, said, “OK, but if I start talking in my sleep and thrashing around, do NOT try to wake me up.  Just get out of range.”

David slid out of bed to turn out the light and toss the comforter over Viggo and Andy.  “I think we’ll be able to make it through the night,” he said.  “After all, we’ve survived orcs, nazgul, and Peter Jackson so far!”

David crawled back into bed to the sound of laughter.  
   


**Author's Note:**

> ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
> 
> Chapter 8: Subtitles are Fox hunting terms from: "West Hills Hunt Glossary of Terms" http://207.198.113.137/terms.html
> 
> Blind Country: Terrain overgrown with weeds and underbrush, where it is difficult to gauge the jumps and footing.
> 
> Burning Scent: Scent is so hot and strong that hounds pursue the line without hesitation.
> 
> Challenge: When a hound first owns or speaks to a line.
> 
> Covert: Wooded areas where quarry might be found.
> 
> Double Back: When the line of scent turns back on its course
> 
> Doubling the Horn: A series of thrilling notes made by using the tongue.
> 
> Full Cry: Heart warming voice or chorus given by the hounds when they are hunting enthusiastically.
> 
> Rising Scent: Scent that is poor at ground level, caused by the combination of cold ground and warm air.
> 
> ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
> 
> Thanks to Entwife for suggesting the inclusion of Tom B in "David's First Day"
> 
> In the course of writing this stuff, I checked out a couple of good interview sites AND stole a character and some of his dialogue from Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring (and quoted a bit from his Two Towers).
> 
> DARK HORIZONS INTERVIEW w/DAVID:  
> http://www.darkhorizons.com/news/lord4.htm
> 
> EOLINE Features Interview  
> http://movies.eonline.com/Features/Specials/Lordrings/Location/010101c.html
> 
> Andy Serkis' Official Web Page  
> http://www.serkis.com/


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